When the time is right
by Alexita
Summary: Sequel to Story of a Falcon. The sudden appearance of a fifth marauder turns life on end. But maybe some wounds can be healed...?
1. To pick up the pieces

"_I'm so tired of being here,_

_suppressed by all my childish fears._

_And if you have to leave_

_I wish that you could just leave,_

_cause your presence still lingers here_

_and it won't leave me alone._

_These wounds won't seem to heal,_

_this pain is just too real,_

_there's just so much that time can not erase."_

_- My Immortal, Evanescence_

XxXxX

A/N: The Memory Sleep-spell gives one a certain ability to manipulate memories as well. That's Sirius, Remus and Peter believed that there had only been one map after Alex had cast it.

XxXxX

Chapter One

To pick up the pieces (Stranger than I dreamt it...)

It was snowing.

Harry didn't really mind, since he needed to think, and the weather gave him an excuse to stay inside a lot.

Five maps.

He couldn't get it.

Five bloody maps.

And four marauders.

Obviously, it did not fit. It was not right. There HAD to be something left out, had to be a story left untold. He was furious that no one seemed inclined to tell him anything. Lupin had seemed so genuinely surprised, had even mumbled something like "But there is only supposed to be one." Harry would've been fine with hearing that yes, there are five maps, I cannot explain why, and I did not tell you because I didn't want you to look for them to see if it was true.

He would've been fine.

Well, almost fine, at least.

Well, at least... At least he would not have this horrible feeling that even the mere existence of something that had to be VITAL was being kept away from him. He would at least feel that Lupin had entrusted him to that there WAS a secret, even if he did not have to tell him the secret itself.

And...

And it hurt. Hurt to know that Sirius hadn't told him about it. Why hadn't he? It had something to do with the marauders, and he had gladly talked about them at all times. Why leave out this HUGE piece?

Maybe he did not live long enough to tell you, an awful little voice at the back of his mind, that sounded strangely like Professor Snape, mocked him.

No! He had had time enough. So why? Hadn't he... hadn't he trusted him? But the two-way mirror... and their conversations over Christmas... and... EVERYTHING. Surely Sirius had trusted him! So why!

"Harry?"

"What?"

"You know, Herm thinks that you think too much about that, really, and she is usually... well, right,"

Harry glared at Ron, sitting down at Harry's bed, just beside him. "You have to be worried, or you would never have admitted that" he snapped quite nastily.

Ron held up his hands in defence. "Look, I just don't think it's healthy to sit and stare on those" he gestured at the maps, spread over Harry's bed "all day. I mean, if you don't get it at once, you will hardly do any better if you just sit here. Just... if there is any chance of you getting to know something, it'll probably get to you no matter what you do. Or so dad keeps telling me."

"I just..."

"Want to know. We know. But it won't get any better this way."

Harry sighed, pulling his glasses off so that he could rub his eyes.

"Got anything from Lupin yet?"

"Nuthin'. You know, Harry, I really think he... doesn't know that much."

"That doesn't make sense!" Harry snapped.

"I know!" Ron waved his arms like a violent windmill, almost giving Harry a box over the ear. "But there it is. He really seems as puzzled as you. And you know... he usually treats us like grownups. Not like mum or anything. He does not fuss or hide things. In this situation, is it really like him to lie?"

"No" Harry had to admit. "It isn't. But I just can't get it..."

"Neither can we, mate. But... well, maybe it will come to us if we just wait."

"Yeah. Maybe. And maybe professor Trelawny is turned into a giant grasshopper at every full moon."

"Very possible" Ron told him with a grin. Harry smacked him, but laughed all the same.

XxXxX

I watch them from the window. God, he looks more alike James for every day passed. More sensible, perhaps, but still...

I have stopped mourning now. Even though my heart is a bleeding wound, and my dreams are full of crying, my time for mourning is over. I have to pick up the loose threads that is the life I left on hold. I owe Harry that. I owe Remus. I definitely owe Severus.

But most of all, I owe myself.

I owe myself a life.

All these wasted years. I could've fought. I could've stayed.

And yet... I couldn't. My time was up for then. I had to find new strength. And now I am back and ready for battle. But I have also lost so very, very much...

He didn't know! He died without knowing that I exist and that I love him. This simple truth hurts more than anything else that I've ever experienced. He is lost to me now, in every possible way. And even though he had the right to know, I never told him.

Until it was too late. Until it was his grave I was speaking to.

I told myself that I would be back when the time was right. Now it is.

Now, when everything is too late...

No. I shake those thoughts out of my head. It is not too late to give that old snake what he deserves. Give back for all that I've lost. And by everything that I have ever loved, he is going to feel it! He is going to feel that he is going down, he is going to SUFFER. All of them are. But especially Bellatrix. I want to see that woman _squirm_.

I sigh, leaving my perch at the windowpane, circling down towards the ground. I land by a small kitchen-door, made for the house-elves, and shift shape. Then, crouching slightly, I squeeze through. It feels good to be human again, although I am very stiff. Flying in this weather really is awful, and as sufficient rest as perching on a branch may provide, there is nothing that says that it should be COMFORTABLE.

"Hi there" I murmur to the surprised house-elves. "I am only passing through. You can get on with what you are doing."

"Lady wants anything?" one of them, covered in really strange-looking, knitted clothing, pipes up.

"Nothing, but thank you all the same." I nod at them with a smile, thinking with a small sigh about Lula and Hedge, and slip through the portrait-door.

The corridor is dimly lit and empty, thank mercy for that. I want to avoid people as much as possible.

Turning around a corner, I almost have to laugh at myself. Avoid people at Hogwarts, even if it happens to be winter holidays... I must be mad. But if I can only find a familiar face... There!

"Minerva McGonagall?"

She turns her head, staring at me in surprise. Well, I've spent more than fifteen years as a bird. I must look like a rag-doll.

"Do you know where I can find Severus Snape?"

She looks even more surprised. Well, Severus probably doesn't have many visitors. I sigh inwardly at the thought.

"I would guess that he is in his study."

"Thank you."

"Have I met you before?" she asks, as I turn to leave.

"Yes. I'm an old student." And then I hurry away, before she can come with more troublesome questions.

And now I will take my place in the world once more. I am frightened, it is true, but I think I am happy about it.

It feels right.

XxXxX

Looking upon him for the first time after all these years, I see a bitter, faithless man. He believes in noting, because nothing is all the world would ever give to him.

What do they know about him, all those people that hate him? Hate him for simply BEING that shadow that we all carry at the back of our minds, this disappointment with the world, this whisper late at night that "I deserved better!" ... What can they possibly know? They think "He can't have any friends", but do they really understand it? What it is to live every day of your empty, hollow life without anybody ever truly caring, without anybody who touches your hand, smiles at you, tells you that you are really quite okay? What it is to have nobody to think of when you are awoken by a nightmare, nobody to reach out to when you are lost and frightened? Do they really understand?

No.

And he knows that, just as he is silently aware of that he had nothing else than hate, and then that was taken from him too. And now the only thing he's got is hate that isn't hate, hate which is only a shadow of itself, hate that is nothing but the aching emptiness in the will to feel ANYTHING, anything at all. Hate which really is only a sort of futile anger and frustration directed at nothing, a nothing that doesn't care even the slightest, just as the rest of the world.

He lights one more candle, tiredly glaring down at the parchment before him. Homework, put together by some student knowing that it can't be avoided anymore. When was he last time he read a letter from somebody who wrote only for the pleasure of his correspondence? Probably he hasn't since I left.

His whole attention is directed at the sloppy writing at the parchment. I try to will him to look at me. I used to be able to do that. Because he always knew that I would BE THERE. Now I'm just another shadow among the shadows.

I spin the bracelet around my wrist. I can take it of any time I want. Because he has failed me, just as I have failed him. Because of that, I am free. But I keep it on.

"Verae amicitiae sempiternae sunt".

He puts down the parchment, angrily shoving it away from himself, leaning his head in his hands. His face is marked with lines of bitterness; his eyes are holes of pure, endless, wanting despair. For the shortest of moments, he looks as if he is trying to remember something, a glimpse of a life that was different.

"Enervate memoria" I whisper softly.

And he remembers.

His hands start to tremble, his face contorts into a mask of feelings so pure and raw that there is no name for them. I let the spell flow out over the world. I am powerful, it's true. But what is happening now is not totally of my making. It is something that is meant to happen.

I step out of the shadows.

"So you wake up, Severus." A part of me, the part that always tried to puncture Sirius at every given occasion, the part that is Wing, tells me that this was an extremely melodramatic and an unpardonably silly thing to say. But in some ways, it wasn't me that spoke. It was also meant to happen.

It was right.

"Alexita." He tastes my name, like trying to find his way back to something lost.

"Yes."

"You... you left."

"Yes, Severus. I ran. Escaped. It seems like I've never done anything else. I thought I could come back when the time was right. And I did. I just did not understand that it would be like this." The sorrow bleeds me like an open wound, bleeds nothingness into my soul. Dead. The only person that I KNEW was invincible, that never would - never could - die... How did this happen?

"So you appear now, when it all starts again. When we're back at another square one, and the war is unavoidable."

"I left where it ended. It is only right that I should be back now, when he has picked up the pieces and started once more. But this time, I will stay for good."

He looks at me, meets my eyes as if asking: Are you really? How can I know that? How can YOU know?

But I cannot determine what he is feeling, there is a wall keeping me out. Oh, Severus, do you remember when you accepted me? When you gave me the bracelet? When you saved me from your father? Your mother's funeral? Our first kiss? When you came back for my sake? All those time when you were there for me? Do you remember US, Severus, my love, do you remember what we were?

"And how did you... make us all... forget?"

"Memory sleep-spell."

"All of us? Black? Lupin? Pettigrew? Every single one in one spell?"

"Yes."

"The dark lord?"

I smile grimly. "I was always very strong, if not his rival. Always. He knew it. That is why he feared me enough to want me murdered, despite my young years. I obliviated even the faintest trace of me. My name is even missing on the marauder's map. For all these years, I've been a nobody. Since nobody cared about me, that is all I was. But you know about that, don't you? We will always understand each other, Severus."

He just stares at me, and then, inevitably, the thought strikes him. "Lupin..."

I sigh. "Yes. It's unavoidable. Yet... yet I am scared. So much is lost..."

The dark, unfathomable gaze seems to bury itself through sinew and bone, reaches my heart and touches it lightly. "It's a wonder you can still stand up" he comments dryly.

I smile slightly. "Strength of will, Severus. And pride. I do not have much left except that, do I?"

"Do you?" he asks simply.

I meet his gaze, clinging to it. My knees start to buckle under me, but I force myself to stand straight, unwavering. I search my heart for the answer, search the space between us, search his bottomless eyes.

For one moment, earth turns around us and us alone. All the background-noise of the castle... it doesn't disappear as much as it is slowed down to an unnoticeable mumble. We are two completely lonely souls... reaching out...

"Yes." I whisper the word, afraid to break the strange mood. But to no avail. The universe turns its gaze somewhere else, the world comes rushing back. My knees buckle under me, and I collapse in a heap. I do not faint. I cry. Deep, helpless sobs like the ones I hid in the dark so that my father wouldn't hear them. The tears of a frightened, disappointed child stream out of my eyes and burn like fire against my cheeks.

And then he's there. One arm circling me protectively, the other stroking my hair. As always. As it's supposed to be. I come to think of that I must smell of old bird-droppings, and I have to smile through my tears.

The sorrow over Sirius is always going to be a dark pain, an unsparing void in the depths of my heart, just as the sorrow over James and Lily and Peter is always going to be there. Nothing can fill it up. Nothing can take it away. But it's okay. As long as there are people that care, as long I have someone to think of when I am awoken by a nightmare, as long as I have someone to reach out to when I am lost and frightened, it's okay.

A very wise person once taught me.

XxXxX

Remus Lupin watched the light falling through the ruby-red liquid as he held his glass towards his candle. He normally did not touch alcohol very often, but... well, the wine muffled the senses, numbed the grief and made it fall away for a while. Not that he got drunk, he never had, but he drank just enough to make him sleepy and a bit detached.

But right now, his mind was too occupied for him to care about his drink. It was the Maps again, naturally. There had been five of them, even though he remembered that there had been only one as clearly as if it had been last week. Which meant that SOMEONE had meddled with his memory.

The thought was not at all pleasant. Someone had been mucking about with his brain, and Remus wanted very much to know who.

Peter?

No, he had always been lousy when it came to charms.

Sirius?

Don't be ridiculous.

Someone else? Someone else that was alive and that knew about the Maps?

But there was no one.

"Bloody deadlock" he mumbled to the world in general.

But what if... What if there was one more who knew, and that had erased the memory of himself along with the maps?

Hardly likely, he was forced to admit. Why would a person do that? It was insane.

"Complete and utter deadlock" he emphasized.

Why did he have a feeling that the answer was sitting right at the tip of his nose, mocking him, just barely visible? Why did he have this overwhelming feeling that he should KNOW...? That he should...

And then he remembered.

The memory awoke and came flooding all over him from every direction, making him drop his glass as his hand went numb from shock.

One more marauder.

Alexita Neidorsdaughter.

Wing.

Falcon.

Two years younger.

Raped by her father.

In love with Severus Snape.

Their leader.

Harry's godmother.

Everything settled in the blank spots in his mind that he had not even been aware of were there. Every memory, good as bad, he relived, feeling every feeling as if it was real and happened now. Tears came to his eyes, as he noisily slid off his chair, leaning his head in his hands.

And still the images JUST KEPT COMING.

"Remus? What is all the ruckus about?"  
The door squealed in protest, and Molly Weasly poked her head inside. "Remus! What has happened?" Noticing the bottle of wine, she drew her own conclusion.

"I am taking that out right now, Remus" she stated resolutely, moving to fetch it.

"I am not drunk, Molly" Remus sighed, letting his hands drop into his lap. His face was pale as death and tear-streaked, his eyes gleaming with a peculiar inner glow.

Her expression wend milder, as she saw that he was speaking the truth. "Then what is it, Remus? Is it...?"  
"No. It is not about Sirius. Or... it is, in one way. But not the way you think."

She gave him a politely puzzled look, but he only shook his head.

"Listen, I have to get to Hogwarts. Now."

"Why?"

He fished for a reason. "I have to speak to Harry." Well, it was no lie.

"Remus? You look so strange. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Suddenly, he gave her a grin that looked strange on him, because she was used to see it on another face. "Never felt better, Molly. Really. I haven't felt this fine in months. Don't you worry."

And he nodded friendlily at her, and disappeared with a faint pop.

XxXxX

Harry was having a snowball-fight with his fellow Gryffindors, when he saw a familiar, tall figure make its way over the schoolyard. Nudging Ron to get his attention, he pointed with a grin at Lupin. "Looks like we're up for some answers" he said hopefully, and Ron nodded eagerly.

Hermione, who did not want to participate in the lively fight, and Ginny, whose foot was still aching slightly since she had been pushed down a flight of stairs by Peeves, were only happy to give up their roles as bystanders and join them.

"Remus!"

They waved, as they stumbled through the snow to meet him. He waved back, smiling. But there was something rushed in his eyes.

"Hello there" he gasped, apparently slightly out of breath. "Look, Harry, I'll have to talk to you..."

"Will you tell us now?" The boy eagerly asked, and Lupin nodded with a strange, distant expression.

"I will. But I need to speak to someone first. Someone that knows a lot more than I do."

"Who?" Ron inquired curiously.

"Me" said a voice behind them.

Harry had never seen Remus Lupin jump like that. His face, at the same time, went totally white, and he spun around with incredible speed.

A short woman with hair that was almost as white as her skin, and eyes to match both, was walking slowly towards them, wrapped in a cloak that was obviously made for someone much taller. Her face was drawn and she had dark circles under her eyes, and her body seemed to consist of nothing more than skin and bones.

Remus closed his eyes for a short second, then opened them once more, drawing a deep breath. "Wing."  
"Guilty." He voice was hardly more than a whisper, and both that and her gaze reminded Harry of someone, although he could not imagine who.

"You... It was you, was it not? You erased our memories. You made us forget you along with that there had been... had been..."

"Five marauders." She finished with a tired sigh. "Yes, I did. I erased everything. Every little trace of myself. But I could not resist to hide the Maps all over the school. Hoping that they could be of use for other generations."

"Why, Alex?"  
Her voice trembled, as did her hands. "I needed time. And there was none left in... in your world. So I chose loneliness."

He nodded grimly. "So you've spent all these years in a way similar to Peter's?"

"Yes. Falcon-form for fifteen years, Remus. You start to think like a bird. Sometimes, I almost managed to forget who I was. But it always came back. I am glad it did. It was all I had, after all."

"It didn't have to be like that" it was plain that he was angry. "You know that!"

She shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. It doesn't matter now. I chose for myself, Remus. I cannot walk around regretting things like this."

"Why? Why can't you!"

"Because I would run mad if I did" she answered quite calmly.

"And don't you care, then? That he died without even..."

"I LOVED SIRIUS LIKE A BROTHER!" she suddenly shouted, her voice gaining a horrible tone of agony and grief. "How do you think I feel?" she added, more quietly.

Harry felt all numb. What in the world was happening?

Five.

The thought spun in his head.

Five marauders. With five maps. One more animagus.

And she had... no, it was impossible. She couldn't have erased herself so totally from the world. Somebody would've had to remember!

He looked up to meet her piercing pale-blue gaze. "Poor boy. This must confuse him." she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else, it seemed. She tilted her head a bit, suddenly smiling. "I bet you're dead tired of hearing this, but by Voldie's underpants, you look like your father!"

Harry felt himself nod. "Yeah... I know... But I've got-"

"Your mother's eyes, yes." She shook her head, sadly. "So many great losses. So much pain caused."

Remus nodded wearily. "Yes. I remember. I remember it all."

"So many loved ones lost to him. Emily. Peter. Lily and James. Si... Sirius. And I almost lost Severus too."

"Where is he, by the way? You talked to him first, did you not?"  
"Inside. It's his cloak I'm borrowing, and I wouldn't let him out to freeze himself to death."

"Fusspot."

"I learned from the best" she answered sadly.

XxXxX

It hurts. It hurts to see him again, hurts to know how much I have let him down. All these years, and he has spent them more or less alone. I at least KNEW that they existed, and I had knew that Sirius wasn't guilty. But he had to live with the belief that Sirius was a traitor, and the rest of the marauders were dead. And he did not even know that I existed.

Poor, poor Remus...

And Harry... He seems likely to faint any moment now. Well, has to be an awful shock. Behind him stands a girl with alert brown eyes, very intelligent from the look of it, and two redheads that both has to be Weaslys. In fact, the girl... the girl looks so very much like Emily that it is downright scary. The same hair, same face, same azure-blue eyes, even about the same height.

Everything seems so... no, it can't be explained. It's just so far away and yet it's everywhere, penetrating my skin and bones, almost choking me with its overwhelming presence.

Two other young ones approach.

"Oi! Ron, for crying out loud, we did not come here over the holidays to see you chicken out in the moment of truth! We have business to do, you know!"

I barely believe the witness of my own eyes. "Fred and George Weasly?"

They both look at me, perplexed. "Do we know you?"

I laugh. "The last time I saw you, you were the most irrepressible pair of three-year-olds ever to have lived!"

They both look totally nonplussed, and I feel obliged to explain. "I was your baby-sitter when it was your mother and father were busy. You know, your mother used to work too, those days, to keep the budget intact, since her husband was out with the Order." I smile in remembrance. "You used to pull my hair, make very primitive dung-bombs and steal my wand, if I remember things right."

Their eyes widen in recognition. "You're the bird-lady!" they both blurt out as one.

"Alex!" Remus exclaims, shocked.

I grin widely now. "They saw me shift shape once, so I had to force them to promise not to tell anyone. Ah, good times, good times."

"You reckless, hopeless...!"

"Ah, but Moony, what a thing to say!"

Our gazes lock, and we fall into each other's arms, both sobbing from the happiness of being together once more.

"I've missed you so much..."

"I wish I could say the same. I really do."

"I'm sorry, Remus."

"I know you are."

"Moony?"

"Wing."

We both lean back slightly, smiling at each other through the tears. "God, it's been so long..."

"Too long."

"You look starved, Remus. Have you eaten at all during these years?"

"Coming from the right person."

I shrug. "I've always been skinny. And I've been well fed. Mostly on rats, by some reason." I smile, a quite bloodthirsty smile, I think.

Remus shakes his head at this. "You hopeless little... But I've had quite a hard time finding an occupation. Not many wants to employ someone that has to disappear once every month, and that law that that Umbridge woman" -collective grimace- "forced through is making things hard for me. And many are scared."

I growl. "Prats."

But Remus only shrugs. "Can't really blame them. People in general are very poorly informed. They cannot know."

I snort at this. "They do not want to know either. Humans like to distrust and hate, it's in our nature. You shouldn't defend them all like that."

"Nor should you judge them" he answers mildly, shaking his head. "You haven't changed very much, have you, Alex?"

"Nor does it seem that you have" I say with a malicious smile. "You're just as exaggeratedly nice as always."

"And you're just as big a cynic as always, I see."

"We cynics fill a very important role, actually!"

"And what might that be?" He asks with a teasing smile.

"Well, someone has to keep the balance by being neither good or bad guys, right? There has to be some people that you can never be quite sure on. If nothing else, we make your lives a damn much more interesting."

"Yeah. Like you two made our lives VERY interesting when you were found kissing, and Sirius went ballistic."

"Admit that you at least was not bored very easily right then."  
"I'll freely admit that. But I am also going to claim that there was nothing I wished for so much as for the chance of being a bit bored right then."

"Uhm, Lupin?"

Oh, dear, it seems like we completely forgot the young ones in the middle of our friendly banter. Turning to them, we both smile. "Yes Harry?" Remus demands.

"What are you talking about?" the Emily-look-alike interjects, her eyes sparkling from curiosity.

Remus, by some reason, laughs. "Well, Ginny, it's all a bit hard to explain..."

"No it isn't." I point out dryly. "Sirius found me and Severus kissing, and his mind went down the drain."

All of the young ones choke at that.

But Ginny's eyes are glittering, as she finally manages to speak. "You were KISSING professor Snape?"

"He wasn't a professor then" I point out. "He was a silly teenage boy with an attitude-problem that I loved with all my heart. Nowadays, he's a silly man with an attitude-problem, that I still love with all my heart."

They all seem horribly shocked by this. I sigh. "Guess he is not the kind of man to be expected to love anyone, nor to be loved, is he?"

"He never really was" Remus points out gently.

"I know. And it's all his father's fault. Things would be vastly different..." I shake my head, tiredly.

"I know" Remus tells me, gently.

I sigh once more, looking at Harry. "He has been awful towards the poor boy, has he not?"

The hatred in the sixteen-year-old's eyes tells me I am right, but Remus still answers.

"Yes. He can't stop seeing James in him."

"But Harry is not James." I shake my head, making up my mind. "I will really have to do something about that.

"Doesntmatter..." Harry mumbles.

"What was that?"

He looks up, steel glittering in his green eyes. "I don't care. I can take it. I'm used to it."

I tilt my head gently to the side. "Always the one to be brave, aren't you? With your parents, I suppose your are excused. But I am not having a prat who picks on children because he cannot cope with his own problems for a husband. You hear me?"

Harry looks downright scared. "You... you're going to... marry him...?"

"Damn right I am. Mind you, he doesn't know that yet, but I won't let him get away this time."

"I think I am going to be sick..." the youngest Weasly boy mutters.

"Ron!" the brown-haired girl standing next to him snaps, giving him a withering glare. "You have no right to...!"

"It's fine" I point out, smiling. "That was exactly James' and... Sirius' reactions when I used to stay at his place. I'm really quite used to it. And boys have to be allowed to be silly, don't they?"

Her eyes glitter in a way that just screams 'Now you're speaking my language!'

"Well, I suppose. But it would all be easier if you could just lock them up somewhere at these times." she says with an angelic smile, ignoring the protests from the boys around her.

"Or just used and then disposed off with" Ginny says with a casual shrug, small devils dancing in her gaze. Her brothers look shocked.

"I really should be taking offence, shouldn't I?" Remus wonders lightly.

"No. Because I know that you are a woman in heart and soul."

He tries to smack me, and I dodge, laughing.

"And I who thought that all these years had brought some change" points out Severus sarcastically, crossing the snow-covered perch. "Obviously, I was doomed to be disappointed."

I scowl at him. "I told you to stay inside. It's freezing out here, and I don't see you wearing a cloak."

He shrugs. "Dumbledore wants to speak to you."

"Well, then he should've borrowed you a cloak. Very well, I will come. In a while. The old man will have to wait."

"You should go" Remus points out, just as Severus sneers and tells me that it is my funeral. They look fleetingly at each other for half a moment, their gazes locking, before nodding slightly to each other and breaking eye-contact.

"And nobody got killed" I point out dryly. "Good lads."

"I was never that bad" Remus says patiently.

"No, I know. But the others are not around to tease, are they? So I will have to do with you. And Severus was always to unforgiving type. So was I, mind, but that's completely out of the point."

Severus chooses not to comment that, merely stares at the sky as if it had in some way become spectacularly fascinating in all it's blue-spotted-with-cloudieness. Harry's eyes, whenever they fall upon him, are icy with hate, whilst Ron's burn in anger. The brunette looks at him in cold interest, and I know that she sees more than the others. Ginny seems wary of him as well, but a smile is tugging at her lips, as her eyes dart from him to me and back. The twin's eyes express mostly curiosity and watchfulness.

"Can you please go inside and wait for me, love?" I mumble, touching his arm. "I don't want you to get ill."

He stares at me for some seconds, has obviously forgotten what it is like to hear such words spoken to him. But then a swift, slightly wry, smile flows over his lips for a moment.

"Very well." His hand caresses mine for the shortest of seconds, and then he is on his way back to the castle. I can see the brunette girl smile. She saw. The other's didn't, because they probably did not want to. I cannot blame them, but I definitely like this girl for it.

"So" I let my gaze flow over them all. "Harry, Fred, George and even Ron I have met. I met Molly when she was pregnant with Ginny, but I am afraid I have no clue who you can be."

The girl smiles. "I'm Hermione Granger. Muggleborn."

"You too? Well, then I guess I am up to date, more or less. And I do think I should speak to Dumbledore before he gets really annoyed."

"Wise move, Wing" Remus mutters.


	2. And where does this put us?

Once again, yes, this is really bad timing, considering that the sixth book is out (and I HAVE read it) but I couldn't care less. I am not planning on changing anything at the moment. This happens in a completely different universe, or something.

Glad to see old readers back as well as new ones popping up. That's always a pleasant surprise. And at the moment I am suffering from post-Harry Potter 6 syndrome, and I am therefore not sure how much I feel I am up to writing. Ah, well. We'll see.

XxXxX

Chapter Two

And where does this put us? (The boys are back in town!)

"Well, that was most certainly the weirdest thing I ever saw!" Ron exclaimed loudly, as they watched the grownups making their way to the castle. "Snape even almost seemed to... like her."

"Like her? Hermione asked incredulously, staring at him. "Ron, are you completely daft? Didn't you SEE!"

"See what?" he asked in hurt tones.

"How he looked at her! The way he smiled! How he touched her hand!"

"Heh?"

"Obviously not" she sniffed, rolling her eyes. "He's in LOVE with her. Anybody could see that."

Ginny nodded slowly in approval, and Ron stared at them both. "You're insane" he stated determinably. "It's SNAPE we're talking about. He can't fall in love."

Hermione's eyes flashed indignantly. "Anyone can fall in love Ron, and just because you're too insensitive to..."

"Hey guys, just... stop biting each other's heads off, alright? Just drop it." Harry mumbled tiredly, his eyes still on the disappearing backs of the adults. There seemed to have come something new, something not quite recognisable over his face.

"Harry?" Fred asked curiously, waving a hand in front of his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just fine."

They all looked dubiously at him, and a sudden anger flashed in Harry's eyes. "I am fine! Great! Never been better, alright!"

Hermione sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "If everything really is fine, Harry, then why are you shouting?" There was nothing accusing in her manners, nothing that suggested that she was laughing at him. Harry looked as if he almost wished that had been the case.

"It's just that..." He sought for words. "I though I knew all about it, and now she suddenly appears, and I really live on all that I've heard..."

He fell silent, staring at his feet, obviously embarrassed. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, and both nodded.

"Come Harry" Ron urged him, grabbing his right arm. Hermione took the left, and they both started to march him away. He made no attempt to protest, only put one foot in front of the other without uttering a word. He said nothing when they arrived at the Gryffindor tower, nothing when they sat him down in a large armchair.

"Will you tell us now, Harry?" Hermione inquired quietly, sitting down opposite him.

Harry still did not look at them. "It's just... Everything everyone ever told me has been proved wrong."

"No." said Hermione matter-of-factly. "Everything was correct. It only missed a piece."

"Exactly! And... and..."

"And this is very important to you" she finished. "We know that, Harry. But you will finally hear the last part of the story, won't you?"

"I guess so." He shrugged. "But still... It still feels... odd."

"Not going to argue with you there, mate" said Ron, flinging himself on a couch. "It IS odd. I mean, WHAM! All out of nowhere appears a girl marauder who erased herself from the world, and who wants to marry Snape?" he shook his head. "Mental."

"Hey!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "The Maps!"

Ron stared at him in incomprehension, but Hermione quickly got to her feet. "Brilliant, Harry!" she called, as she ran up the stairs to the boy's dormitories, only to return a few seconds later with the yellowed pieces of parchment in her hand.

"Here!" she spread one of them out on the table. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." She waved her wand, and lines started to spread across the smooth surface.

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs

along with the lovely Miss Wing  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present  
THE MARAUDER'S MAP."

"Well, that settles it." Hermione mumbled.

"Wait..." Harry wiped the map clear with a short "Mischief Managed" and then once more tapped it.

"I am Harry Potter and I want you to reveal your secrets!"

And new letters spread across the surface...

"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs all hails Harry Potter, and wishes him kindly to bugger off and stop being such an idiot.

"Miss Wing likes to add that the boys are in no position to question other people's wits, since they are in such sad lacking themselves. She bids Harry Potter farewell and wishes him all the happiness in the world. Preferably somewhere very far away indeed."

Hermione laughed at that.

"Well, it was much nicer to me than to Snape." Harry pointed out.

Hermione nodded. "Well, it only figures. They hated each other's guts."

"Not she." Harry answered, shaking his head is mild confusion. After a pause, he added: "You really think they are in love, Herm?"

"Yes" she answered without even the faintest trace of doubt. "I really do."

Harry shook his head once more, with a look of mild disgust, and Ron muttered another "Mental".

"He might've been different once" Hermione pointed out, refusing to let it drop. "And if it is true that she actually managed to perform a memory sleep-spell on everyone... Well, he might change, right? Perhaps he will change to the better. Love is a very powerful force indeed, isn't that what Dumbledore usually says?"

"Dumbledore has been wrong before" Harry pointed out, his voice flat.

"Not about this" Hermione snapped. "I believe it too. Your mother believed it, Harry. That's why she did what she did. That's why she gave her life for you. She believed in love."

Harry flinched, and Ron sent Hermione a scandalized look. Harry's parents were one of those things that you Didn't Speak About.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry" she breathed, looking horrified at what she had just blurted out.

"No" said Harry very quietly. "You're right."

XxXxX

I arrive at Dumbledore's office together with Remus and Severus, knocking softly at the familiar door.

"Come in" comes a voice inside, and I fling it open, proudly walking inside.

"I heard you wanted to speak to me, Dumbledore?" I demand to the old man sitting on the other side of the large desk. He nods at a chair, and I sit down opposite of him, facing him quite calmly.

"Would you kindly tell me why, Alexita?" he asks, giving me a long, steady gaze. I hold my ground.

"I was scared" I tell him truthfully. "I was scared, and so I fled. I can't say that I am proud of it, but that's how it was."

He nods. "I see. And how did you manage this?"

"Memory sleep-spell." I reply evenly.

"Impressive" his eyes twinkle a bit. "I see you truly earned your grades."

"I am almost as powerful as Voldemort was in those days" I answer him without much emotion. "And he was almost as powerful as you. So yes, I do believe I did."

"And now...?"

"Now I'm back. And I will battle him this time as well as the last. I think I will pursue my auror-training, actually. I don't believe I've forgotten that much."

He squints at me over the rim of his spectacles. "I once heard Therese Egelia pointing out that you were one of her most singular students" he says with half a smile in his voice. "I do believe she was right."

"If there was any kind of insult implied in that, I choose grandly not to notice" I quip back, smiling slightly.

"Well, I suppose you will want to rest yourself and... talk things over" he sends Severus a glance. "But afterwards, would you please be so kind as to visit my office, and I will give you details about what the Order is up to now?"

"That will be my pleasure" I bow slightly, still smiling, and he gestures me to the door with a friendly wave.

Outside, Remus touches my shoulder very lightly. "I should go see Harry. You just... get some rest, right?"

"I promise" I smile at him, giving him a last hug goodbye, before following Severus back into the dungeons. We do not talk, but I am not sure it is necessary. I do not know where to begin, anyway.

He opens the door into his quarters, stepping aside and letting me in. I remember this place from Andromeda's time, although it looked different then.

"I suppose you are still spying for the Order?" I say, letting my hand slip over the smooth stone wall. "I haven't kept that much track of things. I... found it hard."

"Yes, I still am" he answers, and there is a slight tension in the air, I can feel it now. We are both... unsure, I suppose. "I do not think I am suspected."

"It is dangerous" I point out, and I am truly worried for his sake. I do not want to lose him, not after all this.

"Yes. I know it is. But I am the only one who can."

"You always beat me with logic" I say with a small smile, which he returns after a few seconds. He does not look like he is used to smiling that much. Well, why in the world would he?

"It's a gift" he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine. There is a short silence before he speaks again, filled with the background-buzz of the castle.

"I've missed you."

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "That's impossible, you know."

He shakes his head. "I didn't mean you in person. I mean all the things you stand for. Understanding. Warmth. Familiarity. Someone who... cares."

I feel my eyes fill with silent tears. "I am so very, truly and utterly sorry, Severus. I really, really am."

"So am I, love. So am I."

I slowly walk towards him, slipping into his arms. It feels just as it did for all these years ago, like had no time at all passed. But time HAS passed. When I look up at the face smiling down at me, I can see a few more lines, it is not the face of a twenty-year-old man anymore. Nor is mine that of an eighteen-year-old woman. We are not the same persons as the last time we met, too much time has passed for that. But the feelings, rising and churning in my chest, almost threatening to choke me, are the same.

Kissing him gently, I mumble smilingly against his lips:

"It is good to be back."

XxXxX

"Harry?" Remus inquired gently, brushing his hand through his golden-brown-turning-grey-hair. The youth looked up from his homework. His friends seemed to evaporate from the spot as soon as they noticed who it was, leaving the two of them alone. Harry sat silent, crouched in the window, his eyes intent on Remus's face. "I'm listening" they told him.

Remus sat down at the bedside, his shoulders sagging slightly. "So... what do want to know, Harry?"

"Everything" the young man answered truthfully.

"That I cannot tell you" Remus told him with a slight smile. "Only Alex knows everything. That is the way it's always been. She was our leader, in a manner of speaking. The leader of the marauders."

Harry looked surprised at this. "I always thought..."

"Sirius? No, he didn't take things seriously enough. And your father, strange as it may seem, was prevented by his own modesty. He was more the person to act on the impulses of others among friends, even if he was a supreme leader indeed in pressed situations. I was too shy to be a leader, and Peter... well, he was Peter." He looked sad as he saw the scorn in the young man's eyes. "You mustn't think that Peter was bad in the beginning" he said in a low tone of voice. "He wasn't. He was as good a boy as any, and very intelligent and charming at that. He just always had very low self-esteem, and while none of us really treated him badly, I suppose we didn't encourage him enough." Remus sighed. As Harry, looking angry, was about to say something, he interrupted. "You were there when I met Peter, you know as well as I do that I am furious with him for doing what he did. I am not trying to tell you that your father in any way deserved what happened. I am only saying that once, Peter Pettigrew was an ordinary, very nice boy, that I think you would've liked, if you'd met him. An unsure boy that got into the wrong kind of company. Peter was never strong in his mind and soul, like Snape was, and could never have fought it, never have rebelled against them, so he merely gave in, to save his own life. That is a cowardice I could never, ever forgive him, for it cost me two of my best friends, and what more, for twelve years I had to live believing that another of my INNOCENT best friends had been the cause of it, as well as Peter's death. But never could I look back at the Peter I once knew and hate him."

Harry looked quite surprised at hearing all this. Indeed he was used to Lupin talking to him like to another adult, but to hear him speak his mind like this he was quite sure was a privilege that very few had ever had.

Remus smiled gently. "But this isn't what I came to speak to you about, although I think it is good that I told you. I was going to tell you about the woman you met today, the fifth marauder. Wing, as we used to call her."

"What was she?" Harry asked, curious in spite of himself.

"As an animagus, you mean?" Harry nodded. "She was a falcon, something that suited her very well. In her mind, she was always more or less a bird of prey, although decidedly more intelligent than such an animal."

"She went in the same year as you?"  
"No, she did not. She was in fact two years younger. But that was never something we really thought of, for she was never the kind of person to look down upon. Believe me, Harry, when I say that she is the only girl except your mother that could ever stare Sirius down. And when she got angry, you cowered and begged for mercy." Remus looked amused at the memory, Harry surprised. The weak and exhausted woman he had met had hardly been intimidating. Although when he thought about it, there had been something about her... the same kind of respect that Snape brought forward in everyone. He had a feeling that when she spoke, you were quiet and listened.

"I hope you don't mind, professor" Harry said hesitantly "but she seemed very... well... Slytherin."

Remus laughed. "Indeed she does. She actually told me once that she would've been placed in Slytherin if she hadn't begged the hat to sort her into Gryffindor. Reminds you of someone?" his golden-shaded eyes sparkled merrily, as Harry looked down at his hands. "Despite that, no-one can say that you aren't a true Gryffindor Harry, and the same goes for her. She was very proud of being one of us, and in heart she never seemed to have the slightest doubt about where she belonged."

Harry nodded, understood this very well. Since his second year, he had never doubted which house he truly belonged to.

"And... I have to ask..." Harry blushed. "That is... what she said... about professor Snape..."

Remus laughed gently at the youth's apparent discomfort. "I almost thought you'd come to that. Well, you see, in our sixth year at Hogwarts, one evening James and Sirius looked down at one of the Marauder's Maps, and saw Alex and Severus alone in the Room of Requirements. They of course thought that they where duelling or something like that, since EVERYONE knew that Wing and Snape were sworn arch-enemies. But that, we found out that evening, was only an act to cover a well-hidden friendship. When your father and Sirius stormed into the room, they had the great misfortune to stumble into the two of them kissing. Their very first kiss, I should add. But of course, Sirius was absolutely furious, and refused to forgive her for it."

"And my father?" Harry asked, leaving the window to sit beside Remus. The older man smiled at him.

"Your father knew very well what it is like being in love, and so did Sirius, but James moreover was aware of that you do not choose who is to be the object of your affection. And even though he many times pointed out for Alexita that he though that she had an ABYSMAL taste in men, he was there for her all the time."

"But... you said that they had been putting on an act for a very long time. To cover up their friendship..."

"Yes, they had. They had been since her first year, as a matter of fact, and very cunningly so. I only suspected that she was hiding something for us, and maybe I got close to the truth sometimes, but she always managed to lie her way glibly out of everything. She was VERY good at it, I have to tell you."

Harry looked quite stunned, but a suspicion was also dawning on his face. "That was why it happened... the whole Whomping-Willow incident, am I not right?"

Remus looked distressed. "Yes Harry, that is why. Sirius rarely thought before he acted, and in such a state of rage and shock and hurt at all his friends sidling with Alex, he didn't even consider the truly massive damage he could've caused, not for Severus, not for me, not for Alexita."

Harry looked thoughtful and a bit ashamed, a bit too caught up in all this new information even to flinch at the name of the godfather he had so very recently lost, and still mourned deeply. "I actually never thought about it that way... What I mean is, it must've been awful for you."

"It was, Harry" Remus said seriously. "I have never been so angry in all my life. I even punched Sirius."

Harry's face took on a mildly startled look. "I have problems seeing you hitting anybody" he pointed out. "It surprises me that you did, and still not."

"It surprised Sirius as well, I can tell you that" Lupin said a tad wryly. "But that was also the beginning of the end of Sirius' anger with Alex, throughoutly ashamed of himself as he was. After that, he no longer avoided the rest of us, and he begun speaking to her again, although it was tough going sometimes. You see, Alexita had been sneaking around for more than four years then; now she wouldn't have it anymore. And now that she openly acknowledged her relationship to Severus... well, as I said, sometimes Sirius really had trouble choking it down."

Harry could very well imagine that. It was like trying to imagine what it would be like if Hermione started to date Malfoy. He grimaced at the idea, and Remus laughed. "I see you can imagine the feelings of us all. But we accepted, since we all loved Alex dearly, no matter who she choose to love."

Harry thought of stern, sardonic, menacing professor Snape, and found it REALLY hard to see him kissing anybody, not even as the young man that he had once caught a glimpse of in Snape's Pensive.

Lupin seemed to be reading his thoughts, for he grinned at him, although he choose not to comment on it.

Then a sudden though struck Harry. "But..." he faltered "...didn't Snape join the Death Eaters?"

Remus' eyes darkened. "Yes, he did. That was one of the most horrible things I experienced during that war, and that is to say a lot. To see Alex, who always had a fighter's spirit and a will of steel, give up. She was totally devastated, broken, both mentally and in body. She lay for several days without speaking to anyone, without eating, hardly even sleeping, not even looking at us. The only thing she did was to cry. I have never seen a person so totally bereft and lonely and... helpless." Lupin shook his head. "And all of us that loved her... Oh, it was truly horrible. But one day, Emily went in there with that 'Now, REALLY'-look on her face, and when she came out, Alex came with her."

"Emily?" Harry said with a blank face.

"Peter's girlfriend and Alex's classmate" Remus explained. "She was truly an angel. She could always give you your hopes back, kick you into working order, if that was necessary. And that is exactly what she did to Alex."

"What happened to her? Emily, I mean."

Remus looked sad. "She died, I'm afraid. Gave her live for her friends, had to because of a stupid miscalculation. That, I think, was the thing that finally tipped Peter over to the wrong side. But in some way, she lives on. Ginny bears a great resemblance to her." He was quiet for a moment, before he continued. "What happened after that, I do not know. I was never aware of it when Severus came back to our side, they had to keep it secret, and I do not know if Alex was. But I suspect that she knew. And then... well, it was your parents getting killed and all that followed it. I would suspect that Alex left about then. Erased herself from all our memories and went falcon for all these years up until now."

"Sirius..." Harry's eyes were pained, as he forced the name from his lips.

Lupin closed his eyes. "I do not know what kept her from coming any sooner. I suppose she was afraid we would be angry with her, and kept away, waiting for the right time to come. And lost Sirius for ever, more finally and painfully than any of us. No-one could ever comprehend how much those two loved each other. They were like sister and brother, always fighting, always bickering, but always TOGETHER through all the trials and pain. They were always there for each other, like two pieces of something whole. And he died without even knowing she existed. Imagine the pain Alex is enduring now. I suppose that is why she hasn't appeared until now. She had to have her time of mourning."

Harry looked down at his hands, once more feeling the weight of a thousand held-back, swallowed-down tears pressing at his chest. And he remembered the unbearable, hardly comprehensible agony in the woman's voice when she had yelled those words straight at Remus's face.

'_I loved Sirius like a brother.'_

"As a matter of fact" Remus went on "I believe that she keeps a photo-album somewhere about her person. Some of the pictures should... interest you. Oh, that reminds me... Haven't you got an album with pictures of your parents around here somewhere? That Hagrid gave to you..."

Harry nodded, getting to his feet and scrambling through his trunk until he found the much-used leather book that contained one of his few links to his parents. Remus opened it and flipped through the pages until he gave a satisfied grunt and shoved the album back in Harry's hands. It was the picture of his parent's wedding, the one that he had first ever seen the face of Sirius Black on. But now, beside him, stood a young woman dressed in a light-blue dress, a small smile on her face and her eyes shining with happiness. He immediately recognized her as the woman he had met earlier that day, even though there was a world of difference. She was just as skinny and pale-faced, but the Alexita in the pictured lacked the hollow look in her eyes and dark circles under her eyes that the Alex he had met sported. And even though the smiling girl in the picture had a certain Hermione-tendency when it came to her hair, it was nothing compared to the veritable birds-nest of the woman he remembered from today. But most of all, even though this elegantly dressed young woman both in her eyes and smile bore the mark of pain, there was not the thin lines of disappointment and disillusionment that he had seen in the face of the Alexita of today.

"She was the bride's maid" Remus said in a very, very low voice. "She was always a good friend of your mother's. They agreed very well with each other when it came to what they thought about boys that kicked and hit and humiliated someone that couldn't defend himself. Did you never wonder at the fact that you couldn't see the bride's maid in the picture? I am surprised that I didn't take notice."

Harry shook his head, usually had not looked at anything else than the faces of his parents or his father's best friend. When he thought about it, since his third year he had known quite much about the friends of his father, but almost nothing about his mother's years at school. He suddenly hoped that Alex might be able to tell him.

"Do you think I can see her?" he asked. Lupin smiled, a tad wickedly Harry noticed with a twinge of surprise.

"I don't think it would be a good idea just now."

"Why not?" Harry asked curiously. "It is not that late" he added with a glance at the dormitory clock.

"Harry... Severus and Alex are engaged to marry each other, they love each other, and moreover, they have not seen each other in fifteen years. Don't you think they are slightly busy right now?" Remus replied evenly, but with a meaning glance at the young man. First, Harry looked completely blank, but then he started blushing furiously.

"I didn't need to think of that" he said with a pained expression.

"You asked" replied Lupin innocently, and Harry was shocked and a tad outraged at the mischievous glint in his former professor's eyes.

"You are absolutely horrible."  
"And I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Harry. Absolutely none at all."

XxXxX

"Hi there" I whisper, emerging from under the blanket. Severus looks at me with slight surprise.

"There you are" is all he says.

"Obviously" I say, with a small giggle.

Hey, wait a second? Did I just say GIGGLE! Did I actually giggle? Oh, the disgrace!

Severus stares at me. "Who are you and what have you done to Alexita and how did you get your hands on a polyjuice-potion anyway?" he says, all in one breath, eyebrow quirking teasingly. I kiss him, hard.

"Are you convinced that I'm me now?" I wonder, as I finally pull back.

"No I'm not" he says, still keeping a very straight face. "You'll have to give me some more proof."

I look up at him, smiling. "You know what, love?"

"No. What?"

"You are beautiful." I tell him, pulling my hand through the hopeless, lank wisps of his raven-black hair. His eyebrows goes up, and he shakes his head.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

"What pants, Sev? I was naked the last time I checked. And I am not going to listen to you" I declare defiantly. "I will always think you are beautiful, and there is nothing you can do about it. In fact, I am going to claim that you are the most beautiful man I've ever met. There! Now what have you got to say to that?"

"That you are mad, for instance" he replies with that caustical, patronizing glint in his eye that just makes me want to hit him. "Now you," he ads, kissing the tip of my nose, mimicking the gesture that always cranks him off every time I practice it "YOU are the one who's beautiful, but I'll let you continue your nonsense if it amuses you."

I glare at him. "You know what, Severus? You are a true and incurable prat."

"Once" he answers, black eyes teasing "you told me that was why you ever fell in love with me in the first place."

"I was young and foolish." I tell him sulkily, and he only smirks infuriatingly at me, giving my cheek a light pat.

"And besides, my dear, my love, my only one" he continues softly "so are you."

Laughing with sudden light-hearted delight, I kiss him once more, wrapping my arms around his neck and melting into the feeling of those wonderfully soft lips pressed against mine. His arms slip easily around my back, and I am swept away into a world of skin and touch and warmth and breath.

"You, my love" he mumbles against my lips "smell like a colony of doves."

"Very romantic, Sev" I quip, giving him a fake bitch-slap. "You know, you do not exactly smell like all roses and violets yourself. As a matter of fact, I will tell you what you smell like. You smell like the apartment where Sirius used to live. The full-force odeur of a bachelor, and I can inform you that it isn't pleasant."

"Your fault if I smell like a bachelor" he returns.

"No, my love, it is my fault that you've BEEN one. The smell is only to be blamed at a lack of exposure to something called dihydrogen-oxid. More commonly referred to as H2O or water."

He grimaces sourly, pulling at a tuft of my hair. I laugh at him. "But I, the almighty and revered Alexita of the Glycerin-based Products have already found a solution." I roll out of bed, dragging him with me.

"If McGonagall opens the door and catches me running starkers through my office, YOU will have to explain it to her" he mumbles in my ear. I just laugh some more, pulling him into the bathroom and flinging us both into the shower.

"The solution" I tell him, gently pressing him up against the wall "is called soap."

And then we kiss some more, whilst my hand strays to turn on the water. Admittedly, I first manage to turn on only the cold, but after some general chaos and exclamations, I manage to correct this, while never actually breaking contact between our lips.

"This" I mumble contentedly "is something I would definitely want to see professor McGonagall's reaction on."

Severus looks horrified by the idea, to my immense amusement. "I have a lot of missed teasing to make up for" I tell him.

And then he cheats awfully, by kissing me in that way that turns my blood to liquid fire and my brain to a puff of hot fumes. I gasp, my knees nearly giving away, and I can hear him chuckling against the sensitive skin on my neck.

"There are other things you need to make up for as well, love."


	3. Facing Harry

Nice to see you're back, Katie. I was beginning to wonder if you hadn't suffered some kind of horrible, sudden death. XD I was not far from the truth, was I? dodges flying pitchforks

Malin, Julia… Ah, you bastards. loves you

Emma… Of course there is something more. JK wouldn't tell us EVERYTHING, now would she? But I hope you are happy with the sequel which is NOT going to be all flowers and sunshine, no matter what people's wishes seem to be.

And I am quite used to people threatening to kill me ;D

/The ever-mighty author

XxXxXxX

Chapter Three

Facing Harry ("Something old...")

The morning after, there was a sudden hush in the Great Hall as professor Snape walked in, for on his side walked a woman, her fingers intertwined with his. Moreover no student had ever seen him like that. There was something different over his posture, and of course, there was the matter of his perpetually greasy hair not being greasy anymore, and he SMILED. A real smile, like something actually was amusing him.

They both magnificently ignored the puzzled and surprised gazes they got from those students who had chosen to spend their holidays at Hogwarts, sitting down together at the Teacher's table.

"I am definitely beginning to agree with Herm" said Harry in silent wonder, and his female friend looked triumphant. Ron looked as if his outlook on life had just been shattered, to Hermione's immense amusement.

"Pst, Harry!" said Seamus from a bit away at the table. "What are you talking about? Do you know anything about that woman?"

Ginny, sitting at her brother's side at the table, looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "But don't you know that? She's professor Snape's fiancée!"

Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati and Neville, who had all been listening intently while still eating, went into a collective fit of coughing as they all had tried to draw sharp breath at this. Dean, tear-eyed from coughing, finally managed to gasp: "Impossible!"

Hermione quickly caught on, eyes glittering from fun. "Oh, but she is. She, in fact, is very determined at that point. They're something of childhood sweethearts."

Harry had told them everything about his conversation with Lupin afterwards. And Harry couldn't help smiling when he saw the horror-struck expressions on the faces of his classmates.

"Who told you this?" Neville finally managed.

"Professor Lupin" answered Harry, as Remus entered the room, sitting down at Alex's other side. His lips moved in a question, and his smile was wide and teasing. He saw Alexita's face flush, and she smacked him at the back of his head. Harry thought that he could guess what the question had been about.

"Wash 'e doon 'ere?" Seamus asked around a mouthful of food.

"Visiting her" answered Hermione eyeing him with distaste. "And would you mind swallowing before you talk?"

Just then, Alex stood up after having said something to Snape, who scowled but kept his mouth shut. She started moving deliberately towards the Gryffindor table, and a hush fell over the room. She took course at where Harry was eating with his friends, walking with a lifted chin and a posture that would pride a queen. She seemed to have gained new strength during these last hours in the human world.

As she was just some meters away, however, she abruptly came to an halt, staring with wide eyes at Neville, who comically enough stared right back with an almost identical expression of bewilderment.

"Neville Longbottom." she said finally. "Am I correct?"

He nodded.

"Have you... that is, your mother and father was in my class at school. You... look very much alike..."

Neville immediately dropped his gaze, and Harry was surprised to see her Alex walking over to him, bending over slightly so that her face. He saw her lips move to form the words "I'm sorry" and Neville nodded a bit tremulously. Then her gaze went a bit distant, and Harry thought he heard, very faintly, how she whispered the word "Legilimens", her hand in her pocked. Her eyes went glazed over for a moment, her expression distant, and when her face went back to normal, it had shifted to steel. Eyes narrowing, she looked over at the teacher's table at Snape, meeting his gaze with burning blue eyes. And after just a few seconds of battle, Snape's gaze dropped in defeat.

Hermione gasped at his side, had apparently seen just as much as he had.

Then Alex straightened up, giving Neville a gentle pat on the cheek, and moving forth to stand before Harry.

"Moony said you wanted to speak to me" she said with a small, crooked smile. "And I suppose I owe you my part of the story."

Harry nodded, amazed in front of what he had just seen. To see anyone stare Snape down was to say the least unexpected. But now he registered the strength that radiated out of this small woman. She had been through a lot, he had gathered from what Lupin had said or let be suspected. And still there was this determination that seemed to make the air around her shimmer, these clear words that her eyes spoke softly but firmly as he met them: "I will not be broken."

"I have to say that I am sorry, Harry" said Alex, sounding tired. "I have been a coward to run away instead of face my problems. If I hadn't, you wouldn't have to grow up in a home where you haven't been loved."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, looking suspicious.

"I suppose... I suppose Si-Sirius asked you to come and stay with him after you had found out the truth about him, didn't he? Because he i..._was_ your godfather."

Harry nodded.

And in a weary whisper, she said: "You have a godmother as well."

Harry stared at her, unable to take in the information he had just received.

"I am sorry" she once more told him, before stroking his cheek gently with two fingers, then turning away from him and returning to her place. She ate with her head bowed, and she seemed very occupied with thoughts, as Lupin and Snape tried in vain to talk to her at a number of times before giving up.

Harry didn't notice. He kept his eyes firmly on his hands.

XxXxXxX

I watch him quietly from the doorway. The black, perpetually messy hair that is curse he inherited from his father, who in his turn got it from his mother, sticks up in several odd angles, as has he run his hand through it over and over again in agonized thinking. It feels odd to see that pair of almond-shaped eyes set like precious emeralds into a face that I almost could swear belongs to James. What hasn't this poor kid been through? It is true that I cannot help feeling guilty. Maybe I would've been able to make things better.

You never know. But a person who regrets every mistake she did in her life, will walk through it without even being aware of the fact that she is making the biggest mistake of them all:

Not to live; not loving life.

"I suppose you are upset with me."

He looks up hastily, and then quickly turns his face away. "If you hadn't run away..."

"I know, Harry."

"Why? Why did you do it?"

I sigh. "I simply couldn't cope with it all. It was too much. There was just so much I could carry, and losing both Sirius, James, Lily and Peter in one blow was not one of those things. I wasn't strong enough."

"Remus managed."

"Remus had no choice. Do you think he ever could've fled away from a society that is so paranoid when it comes to werewolves? Moreover, he was not an animagus, and he didn't have the power to erase himself. And Remus is much stronger than I am, for he early learnt to handle what he was, the curse that he carries. He was - and still is - a much more balanced person than I will ever be. I never got the chance to create that kind of peace of mind, for every time I thought that everything was fine, something happened that would turn my world upside down."

"I know how you feel" he answers bitterly, now staring defiantly at me. "But I haven't run away."

"You couldn't. But don't tell me there haven't been times when you just wished that you could stop being the famous Harry Potter who gets everything in his life constantly fucked up by Lord bloody Voldemort. Have you not sometime wished to be someone who doesn't have to stand whispers and snide comments from people who envy you, someone that has a real family? Or simply just to get away, run away from it all, even your friends, to get some peace and quiet for a change?" As he looks away, uneasy, I continue in a milder tone. "We are very much alike Harry. We both come from homes where we've been treated badly, we both have been without friends, both have been bullied. We have both had things shattered by Voldemort, we both have had tough life where we've got nothing for free. But you've handled it much better than I ever could've hoped, because you have a strength I will never come close to. You will always dare to open your mouth and say what you feel, stand up when you see that something is wrong, just like your mother. And just like your father, you will always face your problems rather than avoid them. But what is most admirable is that you will never let anyone tell you what you are supposed to be, you will always be and do what you chose for yourself. Whereas I will always be a selfish cynic who tries to lie her way out of trouble, who is so scared of getting hurt that she is never going to be able to speak out exactly what she feels, but instead is not afraid to hurt everyone around her by keeping quiet when words are needed, and speaking truths that only does harm. I am not a good person, Harry. But I am a loving person, and that is a thing that nobody can take from me. You, you are strong, good and loving, I am just loving. And that is why I left."

His eyes are filled with tears, and I helplessly wrap my arms around myself, hoping to find something, anything to say. "I should've stayed. If for nothing else, I should've stayed for you. But there is nothing to be done about it now, and I do not think there is anything that can change things now either. I would love to invite you to live with me, but since the man I love unfortunately is a sarcastic, vengeful pig who cannot stop dwelling on past injustices, I don't think that would be a good idea. If I had stayed from the very beginning, maybe Severus wouldn't be such a horrible prat by now, and maybe it would've worked. But because I am such a chicken, and because too much has happened already, I don't think that would work out. And I am sorry, but that is all I can say to you."

And then he actually smiles, albeit a bit reluctantly. "I suppose you are right."

I grin, feeling a bit of marauderish spirit awakening inside me. "Ah, such a pity. I was almost hoping you wanted Severus for a daddy."

Harry grimaces, shuddering violently, and I laugh. "Good god, you DO look like your father when you do like that."

Harry makes a rueful face. "And I who thought he was handsome."

"Lies and deceit" I answer, winking. "You know what was the first thing Emily said when she heard that Lily was pregnant?"

"What?"

"'Let's pray he looks like his mother'." He laughs, and I step inside, sitting down at the side of his bed. "James was very cross with her about that. For about five minutes. Then he was once more too occupied with being a proud soon-to-be father to do anything, especially such trivial things as thinking." I lean my head in my hands in mock woe. "You have no idea what it was like. Sirius vouched for that we should have him shot at several occasions, while Peter suggested that we should put him on placating drugs or something."

"And what did you suggest?"

"That someone would be merciful and shoot ME."

Harry grins widely now, sitting cross-legged on his bed. I pull out my old photo-album - with its faded red leather-binding and worn-down golden letters spelling out the word "Nostalgia" on the front - and throw it to him. "Here. Remus suggested that I'd show it to you. I think it might interest you."

He opens it, staring down at the front page. "You are very young here" he points out.

I nod. "Yes, that is only a few month in on my first year at Hogwarts, and the boys are around thirteen."

He flips the page, and his expression becomes slightly strained. "Peter, I suppose? I remember that essay... Professor McGonagall was really tough on him when it came to giving him loads of homework."

Harry looks up at me with a curious, not-quite-readable expression, before turning his gaze to the next picture. Then he smiles softly, touching the photograph with one finger. I grin warmly, remembering, reliving. "That would be the picture of me and Remus playing chess, would it not? We never managed to find out who was the best. Remus was better with being logical and thinking ahead, but I came up with better strategies. Sirius said that we both were disgustingly intelligent."

"He would" Harry mumbles, turning the page. Then he laughs, looking up at me. I roll my eyes with an agonized sigh.

"From my birthday. Sirius woke me up by soaking me, the bastard." Harry continues grinning, and I mumble something about 'bad genes' that makes him laugh once more. But when he looks back, his gaze locking at the other picture, he suddenly goes very still.

"Yes" I say quietly "that would be your mother, thirteen years old. And her cat, Adonis."

Harry nods, swallowing, and I continue in a low tone of voice. "She was fantastical. One of the most amazing persons I ever got to meet in my entire life. She had so much love in her, it is impossible to fully explain it with mere words. So much love..."

He looks uneasy, and turns to the next page so hastily that he almost tears the page out. As he looks down on the next picture, his expression changes to one of surprise.

"You see that building in the background?" I mumble. "That is Snape Manor, the most awful building in this part of the galaxy. Not in itself, but what its halls and chambers bore witness of once upon a time." He continues to gaze down on the picture, and I smile sourly. "The idiot keeps himself buried in that book all the time. He hates when people take photographs of him. Convinced that he is ugly."

Harry doesn't comment that, but flicks his gaze over at the next picture. His brow furrows in confusion. "Who is that?"

"Julie Snape" I answer with a sigh. "Also one of those people that will remain unmatched and singled out from everyone else for ever. There was no-one in the world as kind as this woman. She took care of people, made them feel safe."

He is quiet for a while, before speaking up. "There is something wrong with her, isn't it? Her eyes look so..."

"Empty" I finish sadly. "Yes, you are right. Her mind was broken. She had retreated to the mind of flighty, careless teenage girl when the mind of a grownup couldn't handle the torture it was exposed to. There was almost nothing left of intelligence or integrity in her, and more often than not it was Severus taking care of her than the opposite."

"What was wrong with her?"

"There was nothing really wrong with her" I answer bitterly. "It was with her husband the fault lay. He was a veritable monster, Harry. He raped his wife and beat his son and he kept the both of them isolated from the rest of the world. He destroyed Severus' childhood, and in the end, he murdered his wife."

Something like recognition dawns over the face of the teenager. "I saw... That is, I deflected a mind-reading charm that Snape sent at me, and I saw him when he was little and his father was yelling at his mother..."

I nod, shuddering. "I can very well imagine. But he was locked up in Azkaban for Julie's murder, and that was the last I ever heard about him."

Harry looks shocked and in some way strangely confused. "I... know it sounds strange... but in some way, it feels so weird to imagine that Snape... that he's got a mother and..." He looks ashamed, avoiding my gaze.

I laugh softly. "I understand. Heavens, I KNOW how he acts towards people he doesn't like, and I can understand very well if you hate him and if you have troubles even looking at him as a human. But he is, Harry. He is very, very much a human, even though a bitter and disappointed such. And please believe me when I say that there has been pain and loneliness in his life that you cannot truly understand, that there are very few that will ever comprehend fully. But I am one of them. That is why I can love him."

He keeps his gaze averted from mine, and his hand is trembling slightly, as he once more turns the page. And grins.

"From our little picnic to the beach" I inform him. "See, there you can actually see Emily, just beside Remus."

Harry stares. "Remus said she looked a lot like Ginny, but..."

"She is really quite the copy, isn't she? They could be twins." I close my eyes for a brief moment. "She deserved to live. But she actually choose death. She saved mine and James' life. Sacrificed herself. Peter was never able to accept that. She was the only girl that had ever cared for him, and he loved her almost fanatically. The day she died, the Peter Pettigrew that was our friend died with her."

Harry makes an indistinct noise, shifting his gaze over to the next page. His eyes go very, very wide.

"That's..." he manages, but the rest is strangled by the shock.

"Your aunt" I finish. "And me and Lily. And your grand-parents. They were really nice sort of people, but..." I sigh, shaking my head. "They handled Lily being a witch in the completely wrong way. They were incredibly unfair to poor Petunia. She was always second best. No surprise she turned out such a full-fletched git, really."

"I've heard her talk about my mother" Harry nods. "She was horribly jealous."

"Who wouldn't? She wanted attention just as much as the next teenager, and Lily stole it all away from her. Not on purpose, of course. Lily loved her sister. She grieved losing her very deeply."

"I never got to know very much about my mother's time at Hogwarts" says Harry. "I mean, I had all my dad's friends around, and they told me all sorts of stuff, but not as much about my mother."

"Quite naturally, since she kept avoiding James during most of their Hogwarts years" I grin. "Remus and me were the ones that had any closer contact with her. But she was... popular, pretty, smart as a whip, a very good student... In short what every girl in her age could hope to be. And since I had always been the skinny, greasy-haired girl with a big attitude-problem, shy and withdrawn, I really should've hated her. But you couldn't hate Lily. No-one could. Not even Severus, although he did try very vehemently."

He leans his head to the side, unconsciously mimicking the same gesture that her mother often used when she was thinking, and I smile.

We spends some good time poring over the different pictures in the album. Harry laughs heartily at the picture from Sirius' birthday when he is dressed up with a pink wig, loose-nose, tutu, loads of garish, dangling false jewellery, and a blind-fold. He grins at the picture of me and James in Quidditch-robes, doing a silly dance. "You won?" he wonders, as James tries to do a cartwheel, only managing to crash into me.

"Yep. Up Gryffindor. And I actually managed to get a few goals in, even if I usually only helped bringing the Quaffle up to the goal-posts. Scoring is really not my thing, but I'm a fast flyer."

He blushes when he finds a picture of me and Severus kissing, and quickly flips the page. He stares at the picture of Rebecca and Co. running from the invisible James hurling water-balloons at them.

"What's that?"

I smile cruelly. "Payback. Those dorks spent four years making my life a living hell. Think Dudley Dursley in a female, intelligent and pretty form, and you've got Rebecca there. You have no idea how much fun that was."

He grins. "I can imagine."

Finally, Harry is so tired that he almost falls asleep where he is sitting. I tell him that I have to get some sleep, since I have a feeling that he doesn't want to have someone he barely knows acting a mother on him. I accidentally by purpose leave the album behind. I have my memories, vivid and fresh in my mind. He has so very few things that he can connect to his parents with.

I hope this will be a small help.


	4. Grownup

Chapter Four

Grownup ("...something new...")

"Well, Remus?"

"I suppose you want to see the plans."

"No."

"What?"  
I sit down beside him, smiling. "I know we have a lot to do, and a lot of responsibilities to take care of, but on the other hand... It HAS been fifteen years. And we're the only marauders left now."

He puts the maps down with a tired sigh, blinking his eyes to adjust them to the gloom. "I know. It's just... I like the work. It keeps me from starting to... think..."

"You've been alone." I sit down.

"Yes."  
"And you're not made for being alone the way that I am. After Sirius..."

"Alex, please..." He buries his head in his hands, and after a few seconds, I can see him shaking from quiet sobs. "Having you here..." he mumbles brokenly "Well, you have to forgive me for saying so but... it brings it all back with a vengeance... like it was only yesterday..."

I huddle closer to him, leaning my cheek against his shoulder. "I know Remus, and I am sorry. But... maybe it will be better now... when we both have someone to talk to at those times when it all becomes so... heavy and... and you wake up and feel like the whole world has dropped away and it is only you and your sorrow left... We... we always used to be able to help each other..."

He nods. "That was the beginning of the marauders. The will to... help..."

I try to smile. "You remember those nights, Moony? When we ran through the misty Forest together, as a pack? You remember the freedom?"

He sighs shakily. "How could I forget? After all those nights of being locked up, of being caged, of being... stuck... of feeling... trapped..." he looks up, tears making his eyes look like liquid gold. "It was unbelievable. Moony never could feel thankfulness, he couldn't think like that, but you know I always..."

"Yes. I know."

"And that time, that summer when Snape had left you and there suddenly was one of the pack missing... He couldn't understand, and nothing the others could do... Finally, Prongs had to kick me unconscious, and that was pure charity... And then, when you all disappeared... I think that Moony knew in some way that you were gone... He hasn't got the same kind of thoughts as a human, he wasn't affected in the same way, and the loss of a pack-member is something so deep and fundamental... But that night, it was a wonder I made it out of there alive."

"I should've stayed..." I whisper, tears once more pressing unbidden behind my eyelids. "I know I should've... But I couldn't, Moony... I just couldn't... And now... now..."

He looks at me, and there is something slightly desperate in his gaze. "To actually have Padfoot back... Even if he couldn't always be with me, Moony knew that his playmate was back, he knew... And it wasn't so bad, because some of the hollowness went away, I needn't fill it with as much of my own blood, my own pain... And then to have him snatched away again, right before my eyes... I SAW it, damnit... I saw him fall..." He is rocking helplessly back and forth now, and all I can do is to keep my arms wrapped around him and rest my tear-stained cheek against his. "It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen... The scene was perfect! He was stuck in the air for an eternity, graceful like a bird in flight, and all those white, horrified death-masks that was the faces of the spectators shone in the gloom, and I could just stand there with my mind numbed with beauty and loss... And then he was suddenly gone, and I knew it was forever and all I could do was to try to hold Harry back, to stop him from going the same way, for if I lost him as well I knew that I would never be able to be... human again..." His breath is ragged, like had someone punched a hole in his lounges, through his chest, and his tears burn against my skin. "And... and he wouldn't believe that Sirius was... gone... and he kept fighting me and I just wanted to follow Sirius but I couldn't because Harry needed me and none of us never said it to him but he... we had seen him when he was small and he had become like a son to us too and Sirius didn't know how to handle all that love and so he kept quiet and never told and Harry never got to know..." All words come streaming out of him in an almost incoherent river of pain and held-back feelings. All this time of pain he was never able to show to anyone suddenly comes rushing out of him with the words tumbling over his lips and the tears flooding his eyes and that look in them, that cry for help, that unending loneliness... "And I wanted to tell him... to be there for him... but... but I couldn't reach him in his sorrow, he shut everyone out, I couldn't tell him that I knew what he was feeling because I had to be sensible and grownup and strong and he would just think I was belittling it all, at the same time as I was being torn apart by rage and guilt and sorrow every night, when nobody saw or heard me... And Moony couldn't understand it, only knew that Padfoot was gone again, and the hollowness was so much bigger and colder and more painful than ever before..."

And then there are no words anymore, only tears and sobs that go like violent, wrecking cramps through his trembling body, as I try to hold him still, try to find anything to say that can comfort him and finding nothing. All I can do is to whisper his nickname over and over again, trying to put all my will to help, to bring solace and alleviation, into my voice and my gaze and my presence.

"You have been so very brave, Moony... The bravest of us all... But you don't have to be strong anymore... You can rest now, Remus, you can rest assured and safe, because I won't let anything happen to Harry and I won't leave you all alone... Sleep now..." There are some people that look at their dead relatives as gods. Keeping that in mind, I say a little prayer to Julie, hoping to for a short while be granted her ability to make someone feel safe, to console and help.

"Sleep now, Moony... you are not alone anymore..."

And slowly, his breathing goes even, and his consciousness slips away. I look down at him, brushing the hair out of his eyes and trying to settle him as comfortably as I can in his chair. He looks peaceful now, and the tears are already drying from his face.

"You will never have to be alone again, Moony." I tell him softly, not wanting to disturb his sleep. "Never ever again."

XxXxX

"Alexita? Are you alright?"

I sit down, absently drying tears from my face. "I suppose so... I just had to be... less selfish for a short while, that's all."

Severus gives me a long glance out of the corner of his eye. "Indeed?"

"I... I always was the one who had a shoulder to cry against... But now my shoulder was needed, for a change, and I had to be the strong one... There haven't been many occasions for that in my life."

"You always supported me."

"I know. But the thing is... I know you still don't like him, but try to understand... Remus... he always had to be the strong, sensible one, the one that took care of others. He has never been allowed to mourn, never been able to let himself be comforted and taken care of. In that aspect, he is very much alike you. But many of the times when you needed me the most, I was there. Not all, but many. But at the time when Remus needed ANYONE that understood, needed this so very desperately, he had no-one. Only Harry, and Harry needed someone to take care of him even more, so Remus had to choke it all down and add it to all the other pain that he had to withstand alone... It was just right that he would be allowed a moment of weakness..."

Suddenly, I feel his arms snake around me, and I relax into the embrace with a small, shuddering sigh. "Alexita, you stupid woman... Can't you see that you too have always been the one to take on other people's worries? I still remember those words you said... 'I can't ignore you, Severus, can't ignore that I see a big piece of me every time I look into your eyes.'" He sighs. "You are too hasty to judge yourself."

"Severus" I say in my most reasonable voice "I ran away from you all when I was needed the most. I could've really made a difference, but was too cowardly to face the facts and do whatever I could to help. I have been very selfish indeed, and you of all should be the first to admit that."

"But that's just it, isn't it?" He answers with a small smile. "You are selfish, yes, and so you make everybody around you a piece of you. You take everybody to your heart, care for them no matter what their failings might be. And then, when people that were a part of you were taken away… Of course that hurt. Of course it had to be a time when you couldn't lose more of yourself anymore. And so, you went away to get whole again. To find your way back to the parts you had lost." His smile turns into a smirk. "Don't think I've gone all forgiving on you. I just can't stand you being so magnificently silly."

I grin up at him, kissing the tip of his nose, something that makes him groan despairingly and turn his head away. "I know that you really are a big softy, Severus, and nothing you say or do will ever change that. And not only that, I am going to tell both Remus and Harry about exactly how romantic you can be when you want to. Which reminds me…" I catch his gaze, making sure that he looks at me while I slowly begins to speak. "If you ever treat Alice's poor boy like you've done again, I will personally make sure that you are going to suffer for it. The child has enough to handle on his own."

"Alexita, it is really none of your business how I find it suitable to teach my students" he tells me, a strong hint of irritation in his voice.

"Maybe not, but Alice was my friend, and I'll be damned if I let you abuse her son like that, nor if you make life hard for Harry just because he happens to be James' son. By all means, be as nasty as it pleases you, heaven knows that it is too much to ask you to be NICE, but do not single out students like that and ridicule them publicly. I won't stand for it."

He looks at me for quite a while, before the corners of his mouth twitch in what is unmistakably a smile. He turns away, trying to choke away this sign of weakness. Venom is dripping from his words when he once more speaks. "You are such an infinite pest, did I ever tell you that? You meddle with my life, you try to tell me what to do, you always expect me to drop everything I've got in my hands and rush to your side, and you seem incapable of doing anything without hurting me, abandoning me…" he spits out the impetuous words in a long string of anger that finally finds an outlet. For a few seconds, we stand in silence. And then, slowly, he relaxes. Because he knows he doesn't have to put on an act in front of me. He turns around, an evil smirk playing around his lips. "Will you marry me?"

I gape at him for some seconds, and he looks smug when he notices how much what he just said shook me.

"Will you? We will be the most dysfunctional couple in history, we will fight constantly, and if we ever get children they will be horrible brats and probably idiots on top of that. But I love you. And that may not be the best thing to found a steady relationship on, but if we are lucky, it is the second-best thing."

He smiles as he speaks, his voice sarcastic and teasing, but there is a faint shadow of sincerity that wraps the words in all the feelings he will not show openly.

I wipe away the tears that fill my eyes, ignoring his sneer. I know he doesn't really mean anything by it.

"Yes, Severus. I would very much want to marry you. You nasty, idiotic, stubborn, cynical pig. _MY_ nasty, idiotic, stubborn, cynical pig. And I do love you too."

He looks at me for some moments. "I don't know really what I would be without you. You always kept a part of my soul in your hands, you plague of a woman, even when you had obliterated yourself. But I think I would have been just the same as I am now, even though I would probably have less to be proud of. I am proud of that I left the Dark Lord, even if I will never be free of him. Ever." He shudders, brushing a hand over his eyes. "And strange as though it might seem to you, I am proud that I brought Regulus' body… home. It was the first time I ever…"

"Could forgive someone for being weak?"

He turns away. "Yes."

I smile, lifting my hand to touch his face. "I was proud of you then, Severus. I thought myself so lucky to have your love, to have your regard and respect."

"Imbecilic romantic."

"Always."

"And I am marrying you…" He sighs, looking up to meet my gaze. "I suppose I will have to stand it. What choice do I have?"

"Every possible one" I answer. "That's why I'm so proud that you chose this. Chose me."

Sighing, he moves closer to me, putting his arms around me once more. I hear a whisper, as soft as the beatings of the wings of a butterfly's ghost:

"Check mate."

XxXxX

"Remus?"  
"Good morning, Alex" he answers briskly from somewhere behind The Daily Prophet.

"Good morning. Guess what?"

Remus looks up from over the edge of the paper. Of last night's tears there is now not a trace left. He is back to his normal, practical self. I wonder with a small inner sigh if he is ever going to be able to relax a bit from the role of everyone's kind uncle.

"The bastard proposed to me."

"Oh. Congratulations." He looks like he is trying with all his might not to laugh. I want to hit him.

"What's so funny?"  
"Nothing, Alex. I swear. So, what did you answer?"

I snort, sitting down by his side and paying my attention to a piece of toast. "If you have the strange delusion that that was in any way funny, Moony, you can rest assured that you are one hundred per cent wrong."

"It was quite amusing from where I'm sitting."

"Shut up."

I know what he is doing, without even thinking about it. He is trying to make me feel safe, forget that there is only two of us now. (Peter is dead. Dead, dead, dead. Gone, obliterated, lost for ever.) And he knows that I always felt safe together with Sirius. And so he is arguing with me in almost the same way Padfoot would.

The worst part of it is that it is working. Damn. I sort of fall into some kind of old pattern that Sirius with his provoking friendship once drew against the canvas of my soul. I melt into it. Something in me is still searching for that which is lost for ever.

The same something wonders how things would've been, had I not committed that act of inner murder for so many years ago. Well, different, certainly. Maybe I and Sirius would actually have had a future together. And maybe he would've told me about his plans to switch with Peter, maybe I could've stopped it. You can come up with thousands and thousands of maybes for every choice you make in your life, and usually, you only consider what could've been better. But to forget that if I hadn't done what I did, I would've broken Severus' heart, and he would probably never have returned from the side of evil, that is impossible. And I have to keep this in mind, always, otherwise I'll spend the rest of my life asking myself "What if…?" And that's not very productive.

Yet, practical and no-nonsense as I try to be about it – Remus is obviously contagious – it is very hard not to try to imagine what I could've done differently, if Sirius and James and Lily and Peter – the Peter I knew and loved – would be alive today, had I made different choices back then. When it comes down to it, after all, I cannot push my feelings aside, try as I might. Severus always beat me there (even if he is not as good as he wants to make show of). I seem to get my mind muddled up with emotions constantly, not thinking as straight as I should. The love from my friends and the friendship of the one I love is what has kept me at least moderately sane, has kept me from going really and throughoutly rotten with hate and anger and frustration. I cannot look away from my feelings even though they are highly inconvenient at the moment. If it wasn't for my ability to feel, I would probably be ten times worse than Bellatrix by now. I would probably be just as dead and barren inside as the Dark Lord himself, if not as powerful and therefore not as dangerous. I suppose it only goes to show that people like Lily and Emily, who always really BELIEVED in the power of love, were right all the time.

I have to think so. If that is the case, then maybe, somewhere and somehow, I will meet with the ones I love again. Then maybe, just maybe, they still linger here with me…

"Imbecilic romantic…" I mutter under my breath, once more pretending that my heart is not full of never-cried tears. And somewhere, deep inside me, an echo answers to my words:

"That's why we love you, Al."

XxXxX

"Mum! What are you doing here!" a voice behind me exclaims.

"Well, I thought I should pay you a visit, since you're staying here over Christmas and all" the voice is brisk and a bit snappish, and I just can't place where I've heard it before.

"But Mum…!"

"Do you have anything to say, Andrea? About visits from your mother?"

"No mum." The owner of the voice obviously knows when to admit defeat.

"That's a good gel! Now you show your old mum right to the common room, and… and I'll be damned." The voice suddenly becomes softer, awed. "I'd know that mane of good-for-nothing hair anywhere! Alexita?"

I turn around, surprised, and I am faced with a pair of blue-grey eyes that I once knew as soft and yielding, but now glitter like steel from strength and willpower like a dynamo.

"Violet?" I murmur, barely able to comprehend that she is here, alive, a piece of my childhood unharmed by the passing of time.

"You… Where have you been!" She promptly crosses her arms, looking for all the world like she is berating a disobedient child. Good god, she HAS changed, hasn't she?

"I suppose I haven't been myself for quite some time" I tell her placidly.

"Well, you certainly look yourself now, even if neither of us has managed to avoid getting old" she says, a brisk little smile playing on her lips.

"You look better" I tell her with great emphasis. "Much better."

Her smile softens, and she looks suddenly younger. "And all thanks to you and Emily Weasly. I never got to say that properly. Both of you got so caught up with your life and all, and then Emily got killed, and you were in the middle of all that danger, and I wasn't brave enough to do anything but keep out of it."

"Which proves that you were the clever one of us, doesn't it?" I sigh, shaking my head. "When you lose one, you start losing everyone else."

It's like domino, isn't it? When Emily jumped, she Peter jumped with her. And when Peter fell, he dragged Lily and James with him. And through their deaths, Sirius was pulled out of our grasps. He was given back to us, as a loan, for a short time, but I suspect that that spark of madness that always made him such a good friend, under the years got out of hand, to finally devoured his last ties to this world. Not that I did ever meet him during that last time, but according to Remus, there was always a part of him that was far away, ever since he lost James. Something in him had let go. And for a while, I too let go of whatever ties binds us to this world.

I'm glad that Remus was strong enough to hold on.

Meanwhile, Violet is watching me with a strange expression in the diamond-clear eyes. "You had people that meant so much to you that you could be there, in the middle of the fire, for them, did you not? I know now what that is like, when I am a mother, but then, do you think there was anyone that could make my life as special and real, as your friends could do for you?"

"A little more special than was wise" I mutter, but she just laughs.

"And what would you choose, then, if you had another choice? Having them, and thereby having to lose them? Or never having them at all?"

I smile at her. "I suppose you are right. So, what happened to everybody? I am afraid that I have not kept that much track on people's comings and goings for a while."

She gives me a suspicious glance. "You haven't told me the whole story" she decides. "And I think you should. And then I am going to tell you the whole story of what happened to us ordinary people. How's that?"

At that moment, Andrea, who we had both forgotten all about, nudges her mother, gesturing for her to bend down so that she can whisper in Violet's ear. Violet chuckles, straightening up.

"I don't know, love. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

The girl blushes, looking down at her shoes. "Please, lady, Ysilla in my class says you are going to marry Professor Snape. Is that true?"

I grin, imagining how pained James and Sirius would look right now. "That is correct, although I should not listen to all kind of gossip flying around. It's not healthy to believe too much of what people say. It might be false. And worse than that" I say, thinking of Anna "it might just be a little too true."

Violet laughs, ruffling her daughter's hair. "listen to the clever lady, Andrea. I think she knows what she is talking about."


	5. Was and is

Well, for your information, I can point out that "something old" was referring to the photo-album, or more precisely at her memories. "Something new" meant the engagement, and the "something borrowed" as below refers to the photo. A borrowed part of a time past… (Oh, the melodrama…)

/The omnipotent AUTHOR

XXX

Chapter Five

Was and is ("…something borrowed…")

"Uhm… Miss Neidorsdaughter?"

Now who's that? I put away my book, squinting at the dark shape in the doorway. "Yes, that's me."

"Hi. You remember me?" The figure takes a step forward, and red hair shimmers in the sparse light of the library.

"Yes, of course. Ginny Weasly, am I right?"

"Mhm. I… wanted to talk to you…"

"Talk ahead." I gesture at a chair next to mine, and she sits down, watching me with alert blue eyes that look so much like Emily's that a faint jolt of dull, sulphur-yellow pain passes through my mind.

"I… well, a while ago, I was snooping through the boy's dorm…"

"A perfectly healthy habit for a young girl" I tell her with a slight wink. She smiles, continuing in a much more steady voice:

"And I found this photo of me. It was hidden in the mattress of my ex-boyfriend, Dean, so I didn't think that much of it, just thought he was being a bit creepy. I mean, talk of stalker-warning." She smiles bleakly, and I frown. Okay? And what? "Anyway, so I just put it in my pocket and forgot all about it.

"But then, now, I was up there again, and Harry had that old photo-album of yours, and there was this picture… The girl in it looked just like me, but it was from when you were young – no offence – so it couldn't be me. And when I checked the photo later on, I noticed there was something scribbled on the backside that wasn't in Deans handwriting. So I wondered…"

She fishes a rectangular piece of paper out of her pocket, handing it over to me. From it, an all too familiar face winks at me. I turn it over, seeing that horrible scrawl that nearly used to drive McGonagall into hysterics.

"I couldn't read it" Ginny points out.

I shake my head. "You're not alone. Her handwriting was terrible. You had to spend years learning."

She gives me a shrewd glance. "What does it say, then?"

"'For remembrance when the summer gets too long'" I answer with a sigh. "She could be quite the romantic when she wanted to."

"And who was 'she' then? My evil twin?"

Shaking my head, I laugh softly. "She could be a horrible pest sometimes, but she was one of the most genuinely good persons I have ever known."

"Ah. So _I_ am the evil twin."

"Twins in soul, in that case. She was your father's cousin. Emily was her name."

"Oh." Her eyes go round. "Father has told us about her. He said she was a hero."

"She was. Without her, I wouldn't be here. She saved James as well, even though it wasn't for very long."

Ginny nods, looking thoughtful. "Father was always a bit confused about that. He said that she saved Harry's father, but he always said that there was something about it that he couldn't quite remember. I suppose that was you." She falls silent for a moment, her eyes glued on her hands, before looking up with curiosity clear and persistent in her eyes. "Well, that doesn't explain _this._" She stabs her finger in the general direction of the photo.

"Well…" Where to begin? "How much do you know of our story?"

"Define 'our'."

"The story of the Marauders." Well, that certainly does sound dramatic, doesn't it? Tssk.

"Not much." She shrugs. "I just know what happened when Harry's parents died, and a bit after it."

"Then at least you know who was really the traitor?"

She nods. "Yes. Pettigrew."

"Well… Are you good at history?"

She gives me an odd look. "Not too shabby, at any rate."

"Well, what's the first thing a historian looks at when they are investigating a specific event?"

"You're starting to sound like professor Binns" she mumbles. "But I suppose that should be 'Cause and Effect', right?"

"Correct. We have the effect. But where's the cause, miss Weasly?"

"I don't know, professor" she tells me with a wide-eyes look on her face that makes me laugh softly.

"Fair enough. Do you want to hear the story?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well… I don't know how it started, really, since I didn't appear in the lives of the male section of the marauders until the beginning of their third year at hogwarts. What I do know is that in first year, Sirius got Peter out of some kind of trouble, and that he was thus included in their little group. I suspect that he was a nervous, fumbling boy without many friends. There are thousands of them, and they all naturally do not turn into mass-murderers. And Sirius, James and Remus weren't bad friends. Unfortunately, the two first of these boys were sometimes… less than considerate in their approach to other people. It happened that they bullied fellow students, and they didn't always pay Peter the attention and respect that he deserved. And Remus… well, you do know what he is, don't you?"

"Yupp. Werewolf."

"A Dark Creature, classified monster, an outcast of society. Imagine how it would feel to be a little boy and to know that about yourself. And imagine what it would be like to get friends anyway, friends who – you find out later – don't mind what you are at all. It's like a fairy-tale, isn't it? It humbles you. Humbles you enough to keep silent sometimes when conscience tells you to speak.

"So Peter turned into the admirer, the one that applauds the tough guys as they go along, something that didn't exactly enhance the more pleasant aspects of James and Sirius. Severus could tell you LOADS about that."

Her mouth forms an 'o'. "That's why professor Snape hates Harry?"

"Yes."

"That's perfectly silly!"

"You tell me. I'm the one marrying him. Anyway, Emily Weasly and I went in the same year in Gryffindor. And since I'm a meddling bastard, and since Peter's low self-confidence was getting on my nerves, I started to match-make the both of them. As a matter of fact, I was a really nosy kid."

She grins. "You're not alone."

"Well… they did become a couple. And Peter started to get better. But then… well, not to make this story longer than necessary, Emily became a hero. She died. And so did Peter. The things about Peter that we loved, the things that made him our friend, died."

She takes the photo out of my hand, looking down at it with an unreadable expression. "Such a sad story" she finally says, shaking her head. "And somehow… familiar. Like I had heard it before… somehow. Man, this freaks me out." She frowns. "Why did I just say that? I never use that expression. It's just stupid and silly."

No, not you, but I do it all the time. Or rather, I did. When I was young.

Well, who can tell you what the soul is? Who can tell how much that lingers after the ones that you lose? Who can tell what the ties that holds a family together consists of? Especially such a family as the Weaslys. Ah, I don't know, but maybe there are still faint traces of Emily lodged in this world, without us knowing. You never know. Maybe I'm just making it up. Probably, I am.

It doesn't really matter, anyway.

XXX

"That's quite a story, isn't it?" Violet leans back, sipping on a cup of tea. I pull a tired face, poking the fire with the tip of my wand as it seems to be dying.

"It is, isn't it? Not exactly a fairytale, though. More like something Kafka would've written on a bad day."

"Kafka?" she raises her eyebrows.

"A muggle writer that gave a whole new depth to the word 'depressing'. I don't know if he even could _spell_ the word cheerful." With a quite a bit too vigorous poke, I manage to send a seven-feet shaft of purple fire rocketing up the chimney. "Bugger it!"

She gives me a sidelong glance, smiling an amused little smile. "Let me test a theory. Come on, fill it up!" She nods at the now empty cup.

"Fill it up?"

"With tea. Or coffee. Pick your choice. Just try."

I wave my wand at it, muttering the incantation. There is a horrible splashing, as about a gallon of Earl Grey tries to occupy the small cup all at once.

"Evanesco" Violet commands, waving her wand at the spreading pool of tea. She laughs, waving her cup at me. "For all your brilliance, Alex, I have to say that household magic never really was your cup of… never really was your thing. Well, at least it didn't turn into something nasty. You just have a tendency to overdo things a bit, Alex. You have gotten used to solving big things with magic, and now you can't do the little things right anymore."

I shrug. "I can cook tea without using magic, so why should I? Especially since I am really lousy when it comes to those kind of things. I suppose I am very spoiled. I go around trying to save everyone – and not succeeding very well, I might add – and then I just assume that there is going to be someone else that does all those little tasks for me."

"Well, what else do you have men for?" she says, winking at me, and we both laugh quietly.

"So, what happened to everyone?" I ask after a moment of comfortable silence. "I know about Alice and Frank, of course, since I kept track on things a bit more in the beginning. But then I'm afraid I just dropped the world totally."

She puts her still-dripping cup down, staring into the blackened fire-place. "Well… You know Eugene? He went to Australia. He said he was going to study some kind of utterly bizarre creature that I didn't know if I was even going to believe was real. I think he's happy down there. His big brother, by the way – you know, the one that claimed that Lucius Malfoy was a part-Veela and started that horribly awkward debate? – well, he runs some kind of a newspaper now. 'The Quibbler' it is called, and the things written in it are either bundles of completely insane claptrap, or big, hushed-up secrets. Unfortunately, the claptrap dominates quite largely. He has a kid at school, you'll know her when you see her. The eyes, you remember? Her name is Luna."

I nod, waiting for her to arrange her thoughts a bit. I feel almost normal, drinking tea together with a friend and listening to her as she fills me in on the lives of our old friends. I could get used to this. Just being Alex, not having to run around knee-deep in some tragedy or another. It's not good for your nerves, in the long run. But then again, I've already decided to continue with my Auror-training. As nice as it feels to be normal, I would probably get even more stressed after a while if I didn't feel that I was up to date with all those big, dangerous events that sway the world. I have gotten so used to standing in the middle of the hurricane now, twisting with it, that I would crack in the middle if I tried to stand still.

"Well… As I understand it, Alexander lives a quiet life translating books somewhere out in the country. I haven't been in touch with him for quite a while, to tell the truth. He seems happy enough, and we don't really have that much to talk about anyhow."

I nod, understanding perfectly. It's hard to keep being friends when you weren't really in the first place. Not minding each other's company isn't nearly enough.

"So what happened with Hermes and Amos? If you say that anyone of them live quiet lives as translators out in the country, I am going to laugh at you."

She smiles. "Well… Hermes is the most famous actor in the wizarding community, and he's quite a star among the muggles as well. He's figured in an awful lot of those movie-things they've got. He has had three books published so far, and the critiques call him "a modern Oscar Wilde". And oh, he's a famous clothes-designer as well. Is that far enough from quiet country-life to satisfy you?"

I shake my head, laughing softly. "I would have expected no less of him. Really. I always thought that he was a genius. So what about Amos?"

Her face darkens, and she shakes her head, her eyes averting mine to stay fixed on the dying embers of the fire. "Well… He made his way as a ministry-worker. Well-paid and in the centre of things, usually."

"And what is wrong, Violet? Why do you look like someone's died?"

She sighs, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Because someone has. One of the very first victims of Lord Voldemort in the age after the first War. Oh, the poor, poor boy… It was so stupid…"

I feel an unpleasant sensation rise in my chest. "Surely… surely you're not saying that Cederic…"

She sighs, nodding slowly. "It's quite a tragedy. I… I've read about it. Young Harry Potter did an interview about that night in The Quibbler, you see, since The Daily Prophet kept spreading lies about him. It was awful to suddenly see the whole picture when you read the interview, and to know that you first had actually believed what they said, that the poor boy was deranged and attention-seeking. It must've been awful for him to see that in print."

"Harry was there?" I ask through numb lips.

She nods. "Yes. I'm afraid the poor boy had to see it happen. And worse. It was him Voldemort was after. Cederic wasn't supposed to be involved in it at all. He was just very unlucky. And… I'm afraid I have to tell you this… It…it was your old friend that on Voldemort's orders killed him."

I close my eyes, digging my nails into the skin of my thumbs in futile anger. "Peter, you stupid boy, haven't you done enough already?" I ask bitterly of the darkness on the inside of my eyelids, where I can see his face etched; a memory of hate that has given way to dull, throbbing sorrow.

She pats my hand with a small sigh. "It's such a pity, really. I remember the boy. Tell the truth, he was a lot like me in many aspects. It's sad how things sometimes end up. Nobody deserves a fate like that, not even someone who has done such awful things. Doing these awful things, after all, must've been the worst part of it."

Sighing, I very calmly stand up and hurl my own cup into the fireplace, where it shatters into a million pieces. "I understand." I tell her, as she looks at me a bit oddly. "I do understand what happened, where both he and we went wrong. But I have to be angry. I have to feel that I really want to HURT him for this, because otherwise I'll end up being disappointed, and that is when hate comes back, and I don't want it to. I have to be pissed off. Otherwise, how will I ever be able to… forgive? If that is even possible."

"What makes it impossible?" she asks me calmly. "I can understand if it is, but exactly what about it makes it impossible?"

"Eyes. Eyes that used to be alive. Just… empty. They used to have all that warmth, all that strength, but there was nothing…"

"Eyes?"

"Yes. A pair of hazel eyes. They looked so… disappointed. Even though he was dead."

"I see."

XXX

I am woken in the middle of the night by Remus, looking wild-eyed and nervous.

"Remus? What in all the world are you doing here?" I rub my eyes, sitting up dizzily. It is dark outside, the sort of murky, indecisive darkness that tells you that dawn isn't far off, but the night is still going to hang around for as long as it can, out of pure spite.

"Attack. Death-eaters. A massive front. Several homes. We need everyone that is able to help. Can you?"

"Accio clothes. Ouch!" I am temporarily blinded by the vicious tentacles suddenly sprouted by my own robes. At the other end of the dark tunnel, I nod briefly at him. "You know me. Always ready to jump into every given situation and not handle it very well at all."

He laughs nervously, watching impatiently as I tie the laces of my boots and fasten my cloak. Then he unceremoniously grabs my arm and drags me along. We Apparate somewhere, I am really not sure of my bearings, but the green light from the Dark Mark is pouring over us from a way away, and I react on instinct, starting to run towards it. (With such instincts, some people would probably claim that I'm suicidal. Ah, well.)

Remus grabs a handful of my robe, halting me. "I need to be elsewhere. There will be a man called Kingsley Shacklebolt by the house. Go with him. Proceed carefully. There may be traps."

In the next instant, there is a loud crack, and nothing is holding me back, resulting in that I trip over my own feet. Having rediscovered the nature of Up and Down, I start out for the house at a run.

Kingsley Shacklebolt shows out to be a tall black man, looking around nervously, shifting from one foot to the next. When I appear by his side, he jumps, and in the next instant I've got a wand shoved up my face. Really. My old reflexes must be rusty after all these years. I try to smile at him, only to find out that I'm not making a good job of it. What was supposed to be a carefree smirk probably looks like a painful grimace to him.

"Cool down" I tell him, keeping my voice low and even.

"Who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Remus', and an old member of the Order. I was supposed to help you out making sure the house is safe."

He relaxes a bit. "You're Alexita?"

I nod. "Could you please remove your wand from my visage? It's quite a nuisance trying to talk to you with a stick between my eyes."

He lowers it, but still keeps it pointed at me. Now I actually manage a smile, tight-lipped and slightly sarcastic. He gives me an odd look, then gestures for me to go first into the house. Well, he probably doesn't want to turn his back at me. Quite understandable.

The house is quiet, except for a small noise from somewhere upstairs. I cannot identify it, but it sounds human. Kingsley gestures at the stairs, so he obviously has heard it as well. Trying to walk quietly, as far as that is possible in these creaky stairs, we ascend, listening intently. The sound seems to come from a room to the left, and as we move closer, it shows out to be the unmistakable sound of a child crying. In one room, I can see an obviously dead woman, sprawled on the bed, and on the floor a little bit away lies a man. I throw a glance at Kingsley. His mouth is set in a very grim line indeed. We proceed to the last room to the left, entering it cautiously.

There is a message scrawled in large, fluorescent letters on the wall:

"TASTY"

That is all.

There is a girl, about twelve years old, curled-up on a pink, fluffy blanket at the side of a bed that is probably her own. She has long, dark-blond hair, now tousled and wet with the kind of sweat that is produced in large quantities by terrified animals.

And then my mind starts to register the signs. There is a pair of pink panties thrown at the floor a way off. Her night-gown is thorn. She has bruises on her face, on her hardly-at-all developed breasts, on her wrists, and most especially on her thighs. Thighs stained a light red by blood. Her legs are spread wide, like those of a sitting dummy, and she seems to be trying to push herself through the wall.

I stop Kingsley from going any further by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him sharply backwards. "Don't" I snap at him. "Check out on the others. Let me handle this."

I don't wait for him to reply, but approach the girl. She looks at me in the way an animal, frozen in its step, might look at the approaching headlights of a truck.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I know there were people here who did. People in masks. Right?"

She nods, her face still frozen in that blank mask that communicates absolute, heart-stopping terror.

"Well, they will never hurt you again. We are going to catch them. Take them to prison. They won't get away with this. Do you understand?"  
She nods, but I cannot read her expression.

"Now, we are here to help you. You are hurt. I am going to lift you up. Then I am taking you to a hospital. How's that?"

She looks at me, doesn't even react. Just blinks, once again trying to edge away.

"We must take you to a hospital. You are hurt. I will take you away from here, and then I am going to put you to sleep. You are tired. Please let me lift you up."

"Mother and father are dead." Her voice is somewhat aggressive, but her expression is still just as empty.

"Yes" I say, because denying it is pointless.

"I saw them dead…" And now she starts to cry. Not knowing what to say anymore, I wrap the blanket around her legs and lift her up, muttering a spell to make her lighter. When I step out in the hallway, Kingsley is already there. He shakes his head, mouthing 'dead' and gesturing at the room. No surprise. Then he looks at the girl with a frown creasing his forehead. 'Rape', I mouth, and the frown turns into a mask of deepest disgust, mingled with just as deep empathy. I think I like this young man.

We get her out of there, and hand her over to the healers that now have arrived at the scene. Kingsley puts a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"I am sorry I did not understand immediately what was wrong with the girl. To tell the truth, I've never handled that kind of a case before."

"I have" I tell him dully, brushing hair out of my face.

He gives me an odd look. "But I thought Remus said that you haven't completed your education as an Auror?"

"That is so. What I meant was that I have been the victim." It's amazing how I can tell him like this, like it doesn't even concern me. It is not so much that I do not feel the pain of it anymore, but the way I have cut away the part that hurts from the rest of me. It is as if I have left the person I was back then completely behind; the affects of the pain still lingers, but not the pain itself. In my dreams the me from Then sometimes speaks to the me that is Now, but not even that can hurt me for long.

Kingsley gives me nod and a look of sympathy that is best described as careful. He is unsure of how much I have healed, I suppose. "I am very sorry to hear that."

I shake my head. "It was all very long ago." Ages and ages. More recent pain has taken the place of the old one, new fears have sprouted on the moulding scraps of old ones.

But as Remus later on turns up, lifting me up in a hug, I smile as a new thought dawns. Where old pain, old fears, fall apart and die, old love only grows stronger, to grow side by side with new seedlings of the strongest emotion of them all.

And that's definitely something that makes living worth all the trouble.


	6. Starting out

Chapter Six Starting out

("…and something blue.")

* * *

Ugh.

Like I didn't hate mornings enough already.

Looking up, I scrutinise my face in the spotty old mirror over the sink, absent-mindedly wiping my mouth. I look like a living corpse, and I don't feel much better. My skin has gone even more transparent, so that my insides are shining through even more than usual. Insides that I furthermore have a slight problem with, since parts of them have decided to become Outsides. Good god, I haven't thrown up since I was fifteen, when James put some obscure potion in my food. I had forgotten how incredibly nasty it really is.

Summer is at its end, my wedding is drawing closer, and I am pregnant.

And I don't like it.

Oh, well, the concept I have no problem with. It's more this 'feeling really sick'-part that disagrees with me. Or maybe it's me that disagrees with it. I couldn't tell, really. Anyway, it stinks.

I brush my teeth to get rid of the taste, and get back into the bedroom. I moved into Severus' living-quarters some month ago, since it felt ridiculous not to, as I spent almost all my time there anyway. My dear fiancé (why do I still feel so weird about that term?) is sitting up in our bed, regarding me with raised eyebrows, abruptly reminding me with his presence that I haven't told him yet. I don't know how to phrase it, really.

"It's an ungodly hour to be up, even for me" he points out. I throw a glance at the clock, showing 04:47 AM, and shudder. I'm a marauder. I'm not an early riser, and this is plain ridiculous.

"Call of nature" I tell him quite sourly, clambering back into bed.

"Undoubtedly" comes the dry answer. I throw him a confused look.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

Severus sneers at me, shaking his head. "Time and time again you severely underestimate my intellectual capacity, Alex. I do know what it is that usually bothers women that double over at bathrooms early in the morning, and it sure as hell isn't your everyday cold I'm talking about."

I smile faintly at him. "I noticed it just a week ago. I couldn't figure out how to say it, so I didn't. Sorry."

There is a long, awkward silence, before he speaks again. "You've spoken with Madame Pomfrey, I presume?"

"Yes. She told me quite brutally that I was up for a hellish time. I'm obviously not built for this. And then she did some checks, and informed me that I was going to have an even more hellish time than she thought at first."

"Why?"

"Twins." I grimace sourly at the world in general. "As if it wasn't enough with one. Children are usually quite lovely, but I'm the one that has to squeeze them out."

Another long, awkward silence.

"So, how far…?"

"About a month. Not much at all, all things considered."

"In other words, this is just going to get worse?" A small smile pulls at his lips.

I grimace. "Well, the morning sickness usually wears off after a while. But then there's the hormones going amok, among other things. And the back-ache. That one is probably going to kill me. You are going to beg god for this to be over soon enough."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Who else am I supposed to take it out on?"

His smile widens a tiny bit, and his fingers brush my hand for the shortest of seconds. All this still feels so odd. Like it was happening to someone else. A part of me is still a confused teenager that wonders where all the time went. But I suppose everyone carries around something like that.

After a while we both lie down again, too tired even to keep our eyes open by now. There is a small space between our bodies, but it is easily bridged by the closeness of our souls.

* * *

"You look bloody awful." 

"Why thank you, Moony, you don't exactly look like a springtime rose yourself."

"Full-moon."

"Pregnant."

"You… WHAT!"

God lord, he actually raised his voice. The heavens will come tumbling down any second now. Then again, it is eight in the morning, and he was peacefully reading his newspaper, when I dropped the… _good_ news on him.

Now, he is holding two pieces of The Daily Prophet, separated from each other as a reaction to the immediate shock, and he is staring at me like I've sprouted two extra heads or something equally upsetting.

"I just thought I heard you saying that you're pregnant" he tells me weakly. "Did you? Or should you lock me up at St. Mungo's for good?"

I cannot hold back the childish gesture, but stick my tongue out at him. "Very funny, Moony. Yes, I am pregnant, and since it is hardly THAT odd, maybe you indeed should take some time resting at a closed ward."

"How in all the world did that happen?" he asks, and I realise that if you shock a person hard enough, they will eventually turn stupid, no matter how clever they were before.

"Guess" I tell him, needlessly to say quite dryly.

Since he is Remus, he only blushes for a few seconds, before perfectly regaining his composure. Or almost perfectly, at any rate. He is still quite pink.

"Poor kids" he says with that patented poker-face that drives me to the brink of desperation.

"Good god, Remus, if I knew that Sirius was going to be such a bad influence on you, I would've made sure that you never met for more than ten minutes at the time, and that you would both be under close surveillance while doing so." We can talk about Sirius now without showing grief. That doesn't mean that it's not there. Remus just smiles at me, though, as mildly as ever.

"I am happy for your sake" he says, and the warmth in his voice tells me how much he really means it. But since it is still very early in the morning, and I just spent my first waking hours turning myself inside out, I only reply with a vague grimace. He laughs softly at me, something that deepens my expression of resentment to one of pure disgust.

"It is not very pleasant?" he suggests.

"I spent this morning saying hello to my dinner from last night. What do you think?"

He just smiles a bit sourly. "I've spent one day each month since I was five feeling terribly ill and sometimes even throwing up, only to spend the night after in terrible agony, as you know, so my sympathy won't be that overwhelming."

"Ouch." I sigh. "I suppose I could do with a bit of perspective there, eh?"

"Yes. Otherwise I wouldn't have told you. I try not to feel sorry for myself." His expression softens into a gentle smile, and he pats my shoulder lightly. By some reason, he looks nervous. As if he expects for me to feel reproach just because he actually mentioned his physical suffering. I've noticed that he does everything that he can to ensure that people do not think about it. My chief reason for something like that would be pride, since I would hate to have people constantly feeling sorry for me. But even though that probably is ONE of his reasons, I suspect that it is mostly because he does not want to cause any trouble to others. Remus has always dreaded the prospect of being in the way, of people thinking of him like a burden. I do understand him.

"I know. Remus, I have known you since I was eleven, and I've hardly ever heard you complain, no matter how much pain the wolf put you through. And I have a feeling that during the years when all of us where gone, you still did your best to try to make everyone forget just how much you had lost. Simply because you didn't want anyone to be ill at ease because of you. You stupid git." I give him my best smirk, and then put on a horribly exaggerated, plaintive face. "But no matter how noble you are, Moony, will you be so kind as to let me feel just a LITTLE sorry for myself? I think every pregnant woman is entitled to that, actually. It's in the law, or something. Pretty please with sugar on top?"

And then he hugs me. He holds me firmly in his arms for several minutes, before finally letting go.

"Where did the time go, Wing? I feel a hundred years old, and probably look it too, and you are going to become a mother. And I swear that just a second ago, we were only kids with the whole world to gain."

I sigh, feeling my lips tremble as I smile. "We let them have the world, Remus. We didn't want it anyway. I wish there could have been a way to shut the world away from everything we had then, but there wasn't. And I suspect that right then, we would never have used it, even if there was. But I can say this now: Let the people that want the world have it, I don't really care. We can always make our own. We're still childish enough to remember how you do that, aren't we?"

"Alex… We're marauders. We're childish enough to do anything."

"And whatever it is you are talking about, Lupin, I really do hope you are going to leave me out of it" Severus tells him quite acidly as he sits down on my other side.

"No, we won't" I tell him, leaning my head against his shoulder. "But it's okay, really. You will not even notice it."

He looks at me with raised eyebrows, demanding an explanation. But that, I won't give to him. I don't think he would quite understand what I mean, anyway.

* * *

It was a Friday night, and a pale gibbous moon shone over St. Petersburg. The city glowed with the pale light, and watching the yellow glow emitting from the windows, the bustling streets, listening to the sound of traffic an people, the city was truly alive this night. 

A woman sat by the window in her home. The unruly hair was tied in a haphazard knot at the base of her neck, and the pale brow was wrinkled in concentration.

"…_had almost forgotten about Hogwarts, and it feels…"_

The quill in her hand scratched over the parchment, forming letter after carefully rounded letter.

"…_think it strange, but over the years I cannot recall having thought about you even once. If I had, I surely would've written you earlier…"_

She stopped writing for a few seconds, for what she was about to write next wasn't easy. Feelings don't die just because you forget about them, and a heart remembers what it is like to bleed. She squeezed the quill harder, and started to write again.

"…_the first three years or so I was still too sore and angry to even consider contacting anyone of you. I can't imagine that Sirius would've told you about the final argument, not much at any rate, but it wasn't pretty. And I was in love with him when I left…"_

A small, wistful smile pulled at the woman's lips, and in her eyes misted over with tears she didn't want to shed.

"…_as my husband and I were cleaning out the attics…"_

She pushes a stray wisp of hair out of her face, tapping the tip of the quill against the table.

"…_The children were playing with all the strange knickknacks we've gathered over the years, and that was…"_

Stop. Bite lip. Frown. Tap quill. Sigh.

"…_when Vanja found my old diary."_

Her right hand, the one not holding the quill, danced nervously towards a small book bound in pink-coloured leather. Attached to it with a chain with flaking gold paint, was a pink plastic pen with a tuft of violet feathers in one end. They had been fluffy and smooth once, now they just looked sad, broken and full of dust. The word "Diary" was written on the book in golden letters, and once it had probably had a lock to prevent whoever would want to take a peek at the inner chambers of a young girl's heart. Now there was only some faint, grey traces of glue left.

"_I stopped writing in it just weeks after I arrived in Russia, but I never threw it away. How could I dispose off such a large part of my old life? Finally cut off the last small strand of wistfulness that still tied me to Hogwarts and my life there? It wasn't possible."_

She opened the diary, stared at the writing inside. She recognised it as her own, but the words the letters formed felt strange. It was so long ago she had been that girl. The woman she was remembered the feeling of the teenager, but she couldn't for her life recall what it had been like to be that teenager. As she continued to write, she recalled how she had sat down to read, to relive. She had been scared, had remembered how it had been. She had wanted to just forget everything that had anything to do with England, with Hogwarts, with him, but no matter how she tried, everything lingered like a bad dream. But now she was married, she had three kids, she had grown up and she didn't regret it. It was such a long time ago, everything, and she wasn't what she had been back there anymore. She was at ease.

"…_I know we were never really best friends, but we were still in the same class, and the one that I spent the most time with. Under all these years, I've been owling frequently with Tessa and Sarah – you remember my friends from Hufflepuff? – but somehow it managed to slip my mind that you ever existed, and it makes me feel ashamed of myself…"_

Was she really ashamed of herself? She didn't know, really. Maybe she was a bit ashamed of those times when she had been jealous of the other girl. She knew that no matter the kisses, no matter the nights when they were one, no matter all the vows of love, she had never been able to get even nearly as close to Sirius as Alex had been. As a girl, she had sometimes hated the girl she had viewed as a rival, and that she was ashamed of. Ashamed of that, and the fact that she had never been honest about the jealousy. She wished she had told him that. She wished she had told him everything, every little feeling.

And she did wish that she had remembered, yes. But she wasn't ashamed. Just confused.

"…_and maybe you're not even alive, I don't know. I hope you are, though. It just seems unfair, somehow. I think you deserve to live."_

But she didn't think Alex was dead. It just wasn't how things went. She was almost positive that one or several of them had died, and a part of her soul whispered "Sirius" with despairing certainty. He was not made for growing old in her world, and dying young was just the thing he would do.

It wasn't the thing Alex would do.

"_So if you are alive, and if you want to, answer this letter. And if you feel you have it in you, tell me what happened after I left. Once, I didn't want to know, but then I was a child. Everything is different now…"_

Everything. She turned her head and watched her husband sleep, sprawled out in their double bed. She smiled, and she knew that she loved the man. A heart remembers what it is like to bleed, but it can heal. She didn't regret being different, didn't regret where her life had carried her. Sometimes, she wished she could meet that other Alezandra, the one that defied her parents and stayed in England. She thought that there could've been a lot for them to talk about, had they ever had the chance to meet. But she didn't want to be the other one.

She finished her letter with some polite inquiries and a "Yours truly", sprinkled some sand over it for the ink to dry. Tomorrow she would give it to Boris, the owl, to deliver to a childhood memory, and maybe she would even get an answer. She hoped so.

Her children were asleep. Vanja and Sasja in their room, Julia in hers. The girl held a large black plush dog clutched firmly in her arms, a toy that her mother once, when she was a girl, had received as a present from a boy that she loved.

But that was a long time ago.

* * *

And so I am back here again. I haven't had the courage to go here since that summer of mourning, the summer when I cried – forgotten and alone, and knowing I was to blame for it – over my last dead illusions that nobody I love could be permitted by the world to die. Then I had been so wrapped up in my own sorrow that I didn't notice anything except the carved-in-stone proof that the world had lost one of its heroes. Now I take in the surroundings, the world heavily clad in green as it is ought to as the summer reaches its crescendo. The scent of chestnut blossoms is thick and sweet, and the silence is made up by the sound of busy insects and the song of a nightingale far away. 

This is the type of day when we would all pack some food and go on a picnic, spending the day doing absolutely nothing except enjoying the sun, our youth, and the fact that earth, after all, still wasn't imprisoned by humans. I smile as I remember Severus' exasperation at the nerve of us, having a picnic as one of the greatest wars of wizardkind raged around us. But although this is hard to explain to him, we had to. We had to remember that we still were ourselves. Otherwise, there would be too much to regret if tomorrow turned out to be our last day.

Did Sirius regret? From what I've heard from Remus, his last time alive was spent bitterly longing for freedom, locked up in the very house that had been his prison and torture when he lived there as young. He must've felt so lonely. And that is why I feel so sorry for Remus – there was nothing he could do to help, he could never be enough. And yes, I think I am angry with Sirius, but at the same time I understand his frustration and anger so very well. Your past catching up with you is a horrible thing.

"I thought you would be here."

"Severus. Don't they say that it's bad luck for you to see me now?"

He shrugs, a small noncommittal shrug that indicates that they can say what they will, he doesn't particularly care. I smile at him, ignoring the fact that he avoids looking at the grave with a determined air of indifference. That's one of all the things that don't matter, not anymore.

"You know, I got a letter yesterday" I tell him, just to have something to talk about. He gives me an inquiring glance, and I fish the parchment out of my pocket, handing it over to him. He reads it in silence, and then hands it over to me again.

"Black's girlfriend? Your classmate?"

"Yes. Alezandra. Had almost completely forgotten about her."

"What happened?"

"She dumped him a couple of weeks after… you left me. Her parents were going back to Russia, and she felt that she had to follow them. Sirius couldn't understand that."

He sneers. "Of course not."

I give him a look full of amused scepticism. "Oh, you mean that you would've been more understanding? Forgive me for doubting that, Mr. Snape."

He looks away, and I laugh at him. He deserves it. "You know, it is quite funny, actually. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but it's ridiculous how both you and Sirius kept denying that you were really quite alike each other."

He turns back to glare at me, and I pull him forcibly downwards so I can kiss him lightly, almost hearing Sirius groan somewhere in infinity: "Oi! Not on my bloody _grave_!"

Severus obviously thinks the same thing, for he gives me a sour smile and point out that we are committing sacrilege, defiling a gravesite and so on.

"He will have to stand a small kiss, really. He should be glad we're not doing worse things, you know."

"Don't be revolting."

I grin at him, wagging my eyebrows, and he groans silently. "And now the Potter-impersonation. Do that one more time, and I won't ever kiss you again. And that's a promise."

"Oh, Severus then. Think of your poor children."

"I don't find that amusing."

"I'm sorry. Marauder. Bad sense of humour, you know."

"Oh, I definitely know, thank you."

A few feathery clouds drift overhead, faint shadows of white over a sky that is deepening to the colour of sapphire as the sun starts to drift toward the horizon.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"I'll stay here for a while. Go back to the castle, you."

He looks at me for a long while, before nodding. "Fine. But let me see you turn first."

"How did you know?"

"I know you."

I smile at him, before I take a leaping start and turn falcon in the air. I circle him once, letting the tip of my wing brush his forehead, before I head for the clear-blue sky overhead. And then I hear a screech of another bird, only to be overtaken by a flash of black feathers in the next second. Like me, he is an Eleonora Falcon. But in contrast to me, he is a dark phase, almost completely black, whilst I am the fair phase, with a white and brown underside. A bird can't laugh, so I cry out instead, and we become one with the summer wind.

* * *

"I look… like a tart." 

"Alex! How can you say such a thing!" comes the offended reply from Violet. "This is a very respectable dress, I'll have you know."

"I meant the kind of tarts that you eat" I sniff, looking myself up and down. "Come on Remus, you have to admit that I look live I've been covered in whipped cream."

He smiles. "You look like the beautiful bride you are, Alexita."

"Sure" I snort, giving myself a critical look in the mirror. White. I don't LIKE white. It's so… I don't know. Pure.

"And for once" Violet adds, managing magnificently to talk around the pins she has stuck in her mouth "one actually notices that you have blue eyes and BLONDE hair, woman! Black takes away the little colour that you've actually got."

"I like black" I snap back.

"And he loves you, wherever he is" Remus mutters with a small smile, and I glare at him. Then I go back to staring at myself in the mirror. We're just doing some last-minute corrections on my dress for the wedding, and to myself I can admit that most of my displeasure comes from the fact that I am so nervous. No wonder Lily was a pest when she was getting married. This is awful.

"Don't get me wrong" I tell Violet, still looking at me with pursed lips and arched eyebrows. "I don't mind the dress, really. I've just got a problem with white."

"Pity" she tells me dryly "but somehow, don't ask me why, I don't think that a black dress just would be suitable. Someone dressing up like a widow on her own wedding simply gives the wrong impression."

Remus chuckles. "Severus will think that you are trying to kill him. He won't be able to eat or drink anything for fear of dropping dead halfway through the desert."

I cross my arms, sneering. "But of course. I took him for his money, his muscles, his blue eyes and blonde hair, and his inability to say no. YOU are next. The Black Widow is back in action."

"Of course" Violet tells me, while fiddling with some invisible detail by the hem "I could colour it pink for you."

"I am better than you at curses, Violet."

"Excuse me?"

"What I meant to say is: Shut up." I step down from the stool where I was posing, feeling depressingly short once more. "There, this will do. Where's the stupid veil?"  
"I think someone is having a case of cold feet here" Remus says with a small, smug grin that by my opinion ought to be outlawed.

"Screw a cactus, Remus. Violet?"

"Here's your stupid veil" she tells me with an exaggerated sigh. She puts it down on my hair, which by means of violence and magic has been forced into corkscrew curls. It's a quite beautiful tiara, I notice, made from…

"Feathers? Oh, really funny, Remus. Now I'll feel like I've got a sibling stuck to my head."

"Don't pretend to have gone soft over the years, Alex" he answers with a wry smile. "That's feathers from a dove, if you'd like to know, and I've seen you eat doves alive in your other form."

"Oh, so I've got my dinner stuck on my head instead. Brilliant." I collect my skirts around me. "Are the bridesmaids ready?"

"Well, I am." Violet tells me, curtseying with quite little sincerity.

"We are too" Hermione tells me, stepping inside with a disgusting air of punctuality. There is a muffled cry from the hall outside; Ginny appears to have some kind of a dispute with her dress, and she doesn't seem to be winning.

"Us too."

We stare. Finally, Remus speaks up, by now half-choked by laughter: "Fred, George, would you please take off those dresses and join the rest of the crowd?"

The twins make a great affair of not being allowed to wear the same pretty dresses as the girls. "Discrimination, I call it!" is the last thing we hear from George, before they both disappear around the corner. We take some time to recover from our fits of laughter. Violet manages first.

"And where is the maiden of honour?"

"Waiting" I reply, taking one last look in the mirror before we step outside.

It is raining cats and dogs, but that is okay. I think a blue sky might've ruined it for me. Clichés have a way of turning against you, and I know for sure that both mine and Severus' parents' weddings were on beautiful, sunny days.

Alezandra is waiting under an umbrella, shaking with cold, and she swears at me in Russian as I approach her. A short hug is all we manage, and then Remus takes my arm, and…

…and the doors open.

…and there is music.

…and everybody stands up.

…and something is tied together inside me when I walk down the aisle. I remember that day at Julie's funeral; remember the feeling of another time that befell me then. Now I know what it meant. The same church, a different time, happiness instead of sorrow.

I don't really hear anything at all until the priest informs Severus that he may kiss the bride. There is a melody in my head, in my heart, under my skin, and I think it might be the feeling of finally being complete.

* * *

_It was ages ago, I know, but now I am back. And as people might've guessed, the "something blue" refers to the ABSENCE of a blue sky. And if you are going to say that that was a bit far-fetched, I am going to pretend that I've gone deaf for a while. Mind you, I thank you for being so patient with me, even if you actually did not really have any choice…_

_/Alex_


	7. The head of the snake

Chapter Seven

The head of the snake (The final farewell)

* * *

We are held back by a violent attack by Bellatrix Black and some other Death Eaters on the second floor. They attack us with the manic ferocity that marks desperation bordering on panic. The curses flying around make the air thick and hard to breathe with the unmistakable feeling of magic fuelled by hate. I bash one of them against a wall until he stops moving, and then turn around just in time to see Remus, his face pale and shiny with perspiration, his eyes blank, kill Bellatrix. He just pulls her closer after disarming her, almost as if to embrace her, and then snaps her neck with his bare hands. Cleanly, clinically, dispassionately. I know he will cry, shake, throw up, scream, because it is over now. But later. Not now. Later.

He meets my gaze, and we know that we have to proceed, have to find Harry. He is somewhere in here, and so is Voldemort, and even though we know – or should know – that they have to face each other alone, we cannot find it in our hearts not to try to find him, to try to help.

The others are still fighting, I can see Fleur Delacour locked in furious battle with Fernir Greyback, McGonagall facing Nott, but they will have to manage on their own. Remus and I will have to go on. Even if it is pointless.

We rush through dark corridors, disarming traps and fighting off Death Eaters as we go along, but never really stopping for long. I know that the frantic worry that is squeezing my heart and tearing at my lunges also lives inside Remus; an aching urging crawling underneath our skin, forcing us on even though our limbs are aching from the effort.

We find a spiralling staircase leading downwards, decorated by wrought-iron snakes, and without even really thinking about it, we head downwards. We are throughoutly lost, running only on instinct and approximate ideas of direction and level.

And there he is. Harry. He is standing alone, swaying from fatigue, in the middle of the large room at the bottom of the stairs. We stop where we are, still some five meters above ground, staring down at the scene. There is a figure clad in black some feet away from Harry, lying sprawled aimlessly on the floor. White skin shines like a ghostly warning and a reminder of mortality in the gloom. The presence of death in the room is so strong that it almost burns our skin.

Silently, we proceed down the stairs, unable to believe what we are in fact seeing. I hear a sharp intake of breath above me, and throw a glance upwards. Severus stands frozen with the same likeness of ever-lasting lack of life as a statue.

"The Dark Lord…" he whispers. "Dead. Dead. Dead."

As we approach, Harry turns around, watching us impassively. Tears have painted white lines over his grimy face, but he looks calm and composed. He has fulfilled his purpose, and there is nothing more to fight for. I know that feeling.

He opens his mouth to say something, when bolts of red and blue light suddenly absolve my vision. My wand flies out of my hand, and I am forced to my knees, unable to move. I hear Severus cry out sharply, hear Remus exhale in shock, and I know that the same thing has happened to them. When I can finally see again, my eyes are met by the last thing I expected and the last thing I wanted to see.

Peter is aiming his wand at Harry's chest. And Harry's wand is lying by his feet, probably dropped there as soon as Voldemort fell, never to rise again.

"Not that it matters anymore" he says, and his voice is completely dead and empty "but it still ends here. I will kill you. And I will kill Alex and Remus too. Have it all finished. Then… then all of the marauders will be dead."

Why did we always underestimate him?

"Why?" asks Harry, and his tone is both tired and accusing.  
"Because you cannot take back what you chose" Peter answers, not meeting his gaze. "You have the right to chose for yourself, but no right to change it afterwards. You don't get a second choice. And I chose wrongly. So I do wrong."

"You don't have to."

"You don't know anything about that."

"I know enough."

"But I don't. So it really doesn't matter." He laughs, but the sound is hysterical and shrill, and it makes me frightened. He has lost himself completely. Where is Peter in this broken-down creature?

"So kill me then. Killing someone that spared your life would be the last step, wouldn't it? And then you never would be human again. Isn't that a nice thought?" Harry's tone is poisonous, spiteful, bitter. Peter's hand is trembling violently, but Harry doesn't try to snatch up his wand, doesn't try to fight. He just stands there, looking at Peter with a mixture of pity and contempt.

And then I hear rapid steps clattering down the stairwell behind me, echoing off the stone walls around me. Peter looks up, a trace of dread tainting the void in his eyes. In an instant, a painfully prolonged heartbeat, the black of his pupils almost completely swallows his blue irises, his face turns completely white, and he is stumbling backwards in something that comes pretty close to panic, but isn't.

Ginny.

She walks proudly, pride in her step and pride in her neck, and there is a distant shimmer about her that reminds me of when I first met Emily, and she was levitating. A shimmer of bittersweet, untouchable distance.

She has never looked so much like her father's cousin as now, and never so much as herself. And I can see in her eyes that she knows very well what she is doing, what Peter sees when he looks at her. I cannot help that I think that she is cruel, but at the same time, what choice does she have?

"That is enough" she says, and even her voice is different. More like I remember Emily's to sound like, that last time.

"_Take me away from here afterwards. And tell Peter that I am so very sorry. Tell him… tell him that I love him."_ That is what she said. How long ago was that?

"You know it is just taking the easy way out. Haven't you learned?" Her voice starts out as strong and cold, then goes gentle. "But you don't have to fight anymore, Peter. This is not your battle anymore. Why won't you believe that you have won something, after all? Why won't you believe…" her voice fails her, falters and cracks. He swallows, and I can see tears in her eyes. "Why won't you believe that I've forgiven you? Peter?"

A small sound, like a sob drenched by tears, leaves Peter's lips, and he has dropped his wand. Harry is staring at Ginny in wonder.

"I have, Peter. I've forgiven you now. So has James and Lily. We know. We know. But please don't diminish yourself even more now, Peter. Go to rest."

Slowly, I've felt the spell that holds me slipping away, and now I can once more stand up. Beside me, Remus staggers to his feet. I hear someone running behind me, and in the next instant, Severus' arms are circling me protectively. Peter stares at us.

"I… I forgive you." I force the sentence over my numb lips.

"I forgive you" says Remus, and I admire him for being able to sound so gentle.

"Alex?" He looks like he hasn't noticed me until now. "You're here?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Tears start spilling down his cheeks. "Did I take everything away? Did I ruin everything? Am I the only one to blame? Is it all my fault?" he sobs, and he is clutching his hands in front of him like he is praying. "Did I have a choice?"

"It doesn't matter" says Ginny, soothingly. "It doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't have to matter. You don't have to fight. You just rest."

"Emily…" he sobs wretchedly. "I just tried to… to be all those things you… you wanted me to be…"

"Shh…"

"I…I…"

"Hush…"

And then he screams, once, and Apparates. Everything goes silent.

I feel ill. I notice that I've put my hands protectively over my stomach. Reacting on instinct, I suppose. My robe is black, and my hands are white. I remember shaking hand with Peter, aeons ago, introducing myself to someone that was to become my friend. I remember that. I must not forget that. I mustn't.

Gall burns in my mouth. I am going to throw up. I am going to throw up. I am tired. Want to sleep. I want to sleep so very badly. Ginny is crying in Harry's arms, shaking so violently that he can barely hold her.

"I didn't want to…" she says, over and over again. "How could I? How could I when I didn't want to? I really did not want to…to do it... I didn't want to... I am not her… I didn't want to… I saw so much when he looked at me… I didn't want to…"

Harry mumbles incoherent words of love and comfort. I think it is good that he has to concentrate on her, that he has no time to think about what he has done just yet. This is not a good place for him to break down on. He needs to be somewhere warm, somewhere safe… We'll keep him safe…

I throw up. Severus looks at me, worried. His hands are stroking my back, and I can feel that they are trembling. He can be distracted from the shape of Voldemort by nothing. His eyes are glued on the corpse that marks the end of the life of the Dark Lord. Losing a nightmare is like losing a limb; you feel incomplete. You have been crippled.

Remus: "Alex, you should get out of here. It's…" his brisk tone falters a bit, he sways. He continues, hoarsely: "It's not good that you risk falling ill. Think about… about your children." He looks at Ginny and Harry and his eyes fill with tears. "We all should get out of here" he whispers tiredly.

How we manage to drag our boneless bodies out of there, I don't know. But we do. We leave the corpse of Voldemort down there. Nobody has the energy to even care. We just want to leave it all behind, to just finally let it all go. Let the body rotten among the stones. Let the rats eat it. Let it just be forgotten, and with it all the evil that was once embodied in its even now decaying flesh.

* * *

Three weeks later, my children are born. They are born children of a new, peaceful age. True, the Death Eaters are still out there, mobilising the best they can after the loss of their leader. And what Voldemort started will not die out here. We all know that the seeds have already sprouted, and plants of evil can grow in the wild, can grow aimlessly and still strongly, producing thorns and sweet fruits of mind-devouring poison. But it is not a war anymore. The fear that was all we knew for so long, the kind of fear that lives in your flesh and your bone and in the core of your soul, is gone. We can go on with our lives, we are no longer paralysed and crippled by terror. We have more than the hope of the desperate to cling to, and when we wake up at night, the shadows mean nothing more than the absence of light.

We feel safer.

We name our children Julie and Jacques. Severus accepts my silent tribute to James without protests; he has found a new kind of peace now. When that happens to people, there are some kind of things that just aren't important anymore.

Even though the delivery was pretty tough, I am soon enough well again. After this year, with breast-feeding and sleepless nights and diapers and the devil knows what else, maybe I will go back to studying to become an Auror. We'll see. But at the moment, the only thing I really want is getting a just moment's rest. I tell Severus. He agrees.

After the obligatory time I have to spend at home with Julie and Jacques, since I am their food-source during this time, Severus takes some time off to be with them. It somewhat surprises his students when I enter the classroom.

"Good day to you. Professor Snape is on father's leave at the moment, so I am going to take care of his classes from now on, until he gets back."

A lot of surprised stares meet my gaze. The classroom seems to be full of nothing but wide, curious eyes, as a matter of fact.

"My name" I continue "is Alexita Neidorsdaughter-Snape, and I am, in fact, the wife of your ordinary professor, so if you wish, you may address me as 'Professor Snape' as well. Otherwise, 'Professor Neidorsdaughter' will be fine, although it is undoubtedly longer and much more complicated, and not what you're used to either. Well, anyway, it's up to you. So. Any questions?"

A tentative hand is raised. "Please, professor… Could you congratulate professor Snape from us?" wonders a small Asian girl with the Slytherin mark attached to her chest. A murmur of agreement can be heard from her friends. One of the Gryffindor boys snickers. I give him a long look with raised eyebrows, and he blushes and turns his gaze away. I then turn back to the girl.

"I will certainly do so." I smile at her, and I am relieved when I feel that it is a real smile, not a smirk. "Now, let's get on with this class, shall we? Who can tell me when and why it may be highly recommendable to add two drops of infusion of Deadly Nightshade to a Restoration Potion?"

When I arrive at home, later that night, Severus is waiting for me.

"How was it?" he asks, giving me a long, inquiring look.

"It felt a bit strange" I tell him, starting to prepare a cup of tea. "I never really pictured myself as a teacher, really. Of course, I never pictured you as one either. I think you might be very much better at it than me, though."

Tea-leaves, hot water, lemon, honey…

He snorts. "Indeed. I just sought protection when I returned to Hogwarts, you know. But now…" he sighs a bit, softly. "Well, now I AM a teacher, and there seems to be nothing for it."

"I'm not" I reply with a smile "and I don't think I'll ever be." I stir my cup with a spoon. "I think I'll go back to studying to become an Auror, you know. That's at least something I am good at."

"It is still a dangerous line of work" he points out, neutrally.

"I know. But I am afraid to say that I think that I am a danger kind of person. Sirius rubbed off on me, in that aspect. And I've never had what people refer to as a 'normal' life. So now I need a touch of abnormality to stay afloat, I think. Something that attaches my Now to my Then."

"Alexita?"

"Yes?"

"You ARE an abnormality."

"Shut up." I laugh and throw a wet sponge that I find in the sink at him. He dodges it. I follow the sponge, and throw myself into his arms, kissing him soundly, and then…

…then Julie starts crying in the other room. Rolling our eyes at each other, we disentangle from our embrace and go to comfort our upset daughter.

She's got large lunges, that girl. Maybe she'll be an opera-singer when she grows up.

Sigh.

* * *

One night, about a month later, I dream, and the dream is the presence of another mind. It was a long time ago this happened to me, and I do not know what it means. But I do know who the mind belongs to.

When I wake up, I am calm. The link between me and that other mind is still strong. I have a feeling that I know what I must do, and even if it is unpleasant, it is time to face these last demons of the Netherworld that is the darkness of the past.

I stretch out my hand, stroking Severus' cheek gently, only once. He moves slightly in his sleep, and I feel the warmth of his breath ghosting against my skin. "I'll be back soon" I murmur, kissing his lips lightly. Then I grab my wand from the bedside table and Apparate, following the thread of consciousness from that presence, back to someone who is waiting for me.

The cold glow of a streetlight is streaming softly into the room from the window. Peter sits by it, looking horribly old and worn-out. His right hand, its silver gleam unnatural and somehow grotesque in the gloom, is resting on the glass, his finger spread wide.

"It was a sad way for the marauders to end" he tells me, and I hate the fact that his voice sounds just as elderly and weak as he looks. "But it was necessary."

"You know that that isn't true, Peter" I tell him, coldly. He sighs, and turns his face to look at me. I can see that whatever it is, looking out at me, it is broken. Peter has lost his mind, did so a long, long time ago. But there is something light and firm and whole somewhere, under layers upon layers of madness.

"Yes" he admits. "I know that. I am the traitor, after all." There is almost something like pride in his voice. God, how I pity him. "You remember that discussion we had? About stories. About heroes. About stories about heroes." He smiles sadly. "We said that there had to be a martyr, and there had to be a traitor. And someone important had to die. And there had to be someone important that would survive, as well, to tell the tale." His eyes gleam with something that I suspect is tears. "I started the story, because I was the traitor. And Padfoot became the martyr when he was punished instead of me. Prongs died. Moony survived. But there isn't a place in the story for you, Wing. Just for Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. But not for Wing."

I find his using of our old nicknames to be quite frankly creepy. I don't know what he is trying to tell me, either.

"You are not, in fact, a hero at all, are you?" he asks me.

"No."

"And like me, you are not a good person."

"No. But unlike you, I did good, anyway. I did bad as well, but mostly, I did good."

"Yes." The tears spill over, starting to run down his cheeks. He is shaking, and his voice is even weaker. "You were… you were a good friend, Wing. I loved you. I loved all of you. I still do…" He hides his face in his hands, repeating: "I still do…"

"Peter…"

"I blamed you. I blamed you and I blamed James. Because she was gone. Because you were allowed to survive when she wasn't. Because you were whole and could continue to live, and she was dead and I was broken... I could see you crying but you had not died with her. And it ate into my mind… You always had everything, the four of you. Or at least, you had each other. But no matter how hard I tried, I never really could… feel…"

"I've understood that much, Peter. I know you had your reasons. But that doesn't change a thing."

"I know." He dries the tears away, but new ones replace them. "I suppose I just wanted to tell… to tell you…"

"Why?"

"So that you could tell her" he whispers, turning away from me. His voice is slightly shrill from desperation as he speaks again: "You have to tell me that she wasn't a dream, Alex. You have to tell me that she was really there. I'm not sure on anything I see anymore, but I want to really have seen her, Alex…"

I don't know what to say. If he is turning himself over now, if that is what this is about, then he will find out the truth. And then I cannot lie to him now.

"Will you come with me, Peter?" I ask him, gently.

"No." He shakes his head. "I cannot. I cannot. There is nothing for me to come back to now. There is no way that I could start anew. I've destroyed too much for that." His voice becomes both bitter and melancholic. "I am not a whole person, Alex, I know that you can see that much. Large parts of me, thing that you need to be human, have died. Or I have burnt them. Or forgotten them. Or they have gone lost. I am just not… I am what Voldemort was, only weak. Split up. Without a soul that functions as it should." A small, sad smile curls his lips very slightly. "I was never really a real person, Alex. I never knew how to deal with other people. I was always helpless. I was always alone. I am so sorry."

I know he is right. Of course he is right. There is nothing left for him now. No forgiveness, nothing.

"She was there, Peter" I tell him. And maybe I am not lying, after all. The truth is all about perspective and sometimes also about belief, after all.

He nods, and looks a bit more peaceful. "Good. Then I know… then I know at least that I did something right." He meets my gaze, and I realise with a start that somehow – at least partly – he knows exactly what it was that happened. Because we always underestimated Peter, and that is where we went wrong. But Peter was always clever, and he found out before any of us that lies can be more precious than truths. Sometimes. And sometimes, reality is worth nothing at all.

And when you realise that you have discredited someone once more, too stuck in your own thoughts to notice anyone else… then you really should be ashamed.

"It's funny, isn't it, how the world works?" Peter says, and his voice is mildly amused, although still very serious. "Sometimes, when you are asking for a kiss, you get a slap. But sometimes, when you are asking for a way out, that is exactly what you get. And then you have to take care not to get… lost…" He smile through his tears, and as my vision blurs, I realise that I am crying as well.

"I am so sorry, Peter. I am so sorry."

"It's alright, Alex. I know she was there, after all. Just… just tell the girl that she was being really brave. Whoever she was." He sobs, and I think that he sounds just like Severus, when he is trying to be brave even though he is breaking from the inside and out. "I just wish I could see…" And then he falls silent for a long, long while, before he looks up at me once more. "Well, are you ready?" he asks, silently.

I try to dry my tears away, and I don't know why I am suddenly so frightened, but I am. I have never been this scared before. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"You have to do it, you know you do" he answers. "There is no one else that can. And I… I cannot do this anymore. So you have to do it now."

And I understand. Sobbing, I back away. "Please, Peter… I don't want to…"

His eyes are round and clear, and he looks almost happy. "But I do, Alex. I really do. It's my turn to do good now."

"I…" I try to object, but realise there is nothing I can say. He is right. I owe him this. In some way, I owe him this. Shaking so much that my breathing becomes laboured and painful, I raise my wand. He stands up, and walks over to a quite filthy mattress, lying down and wrapping a thorn quilt around his body.

"I haven't been able to sleep in days…" he tells me, shutting his eyes. Swallowing, I close my eyes too, because I don't want to look when I am doing this. I don't want to think about what I am about to do, don't want to know. This is the hardest thing I've ever done, and I really just want to be far, far away.

"I'm sorry, Alex. Tell Remus that I am" he says.

"I'll let him know" I say, trying in vain to swallow down the lump in my throat. I remember Emily's death, and I hate myself. "And I'll tell everyone that you were… brave. I true Gryffindor."

I don't see it, but I can hear how he smiles. "I'd like that" he says, and his voice is peaceful and a bit sleepy. I draw a deep breath. I open my eyes. I have to open my eyes. I owe him that as well.

"_Avada Kedavra."_

I do not shout the killing-curse. I don't even whisper it. I just form the words with my mouth. And I imagine, even if I do not know if I am right or not, that the green light does not come in a flash like it usually does, but sort of floats out gently towards him.

I try and try again to blink the tears from my eyes, but it takes at least ten minutes before I can see him at least moderately clearly again. Like Emily, he looks like he is merely asleep, and this is only contradicted by the utter silence outside the universe of my own heartbeats. I fall to my knees beside him. For a while, and I cannot tell how long, I simply sit there, before gathering him in my arms and Apparating with him.

Taking him home.

* * *

"_Once upon a time,_

_before all this mess began_

_I never felt alone;_

_all now stolen._

_Simple and surreal,_

_was it a world of make-belief?_

_You could take me by the hand,_

_and I'd follow._

_Hear my voice,_

_did you see me coming?_

_I made a choice,_

_now I'm running._

_Turn me round._

_Let me go._

_Take me home._

_Never thought I'd see the day_

_when my life was not my own;_

_I would throw it all away_

_without sorrow._

_But it wouldn't change a thing,_

_wouldn't change the way I feel,_

_for today is the price I pay_

_for tomorrow._

_Hear my voice,_

_did you see me coming?_

_I made a choice,_

_now I'm running._

_Turn me round._

_Let me go._

_Take me home._

_Somehow, suddenly,_

_It slipped away from me._

_I reach out, hopelessly…_

_You're gone._

_Hear my voice;_

_did you see me coming?_

_I made a choice,_

_and now I'm running._

_So turn me round._

_Let me go._

_Take me home."_

_- Home, by Melanie C_


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue 

Having found peace (As far as that goes...)

* * *

The mild glow from the fire turns Julie's almost white hair into the colour of flame, the short-cropped locks curl around her face, and the black eyes move quickly from one word to the next. She sits in rapt contemplation of her book, her brow slightly furrowed in a way that brings a smile to my lips; she reminds so much of her father in that. But at the same time, she bites her lip in the way that is typical for me. It brings me a feeling of inner warmth to see how she is both a merging of mine and Severus' looks and manners, and at the same time so very defined an own person as can be. The book she reads is a heavy volume with the title "Dark Lords over the centuries". She has taken very much to history, fascinated by the riddles and untold stories of the past.

Jacques is doing his homework over the vacation, carefully taking notes from a large schoolbook. The blond fringe falls into his eyes all the time, and with the shy, gentle movements that are typical for him, he once and again brushes it away. He and Remus are – not really surprising – very good friends. Close to soul-mates, one might say, for they both have the same sensitivity and calm wisdom, both share a their love for books and eagerness in their studies. But Jacques also has a sharp, unexpected and hidden sort of intelligence, as well as an sometimes unhealthy shyness, that I remember all-too-well from Peter. Right now, he is so deeply absorbed by his work, that he does not even notice when Lillian noisily crashes through the door, dragging half a blizzard along with her. But Julie does, and sends her little sister a venomous glare, before once more bending over her book.

Lillian supremely ignores her, pulling off her hat and shaking out her raven-black hair. Her cheeks are red from the cold, and her blue-grey eyes shine cat-like from mischief and fun. The cherry-red, full lips – neither Severus or I understand who she got them from – are parted in a grin. The same teasing twist of fate as gave her this combination of hair and eye colour also gave her an extraordinarily pretty face, along with recklessness and a phenomenal ability to get herself into trouble of the worst kind. Ha bloody ha. Someone must have had a really fun time brewing this genetic muck together.

And no, I am not referring to anything obscene.

Must be the Black genes speaking, anyhow. And Life in general having a really warped sense of humour.

"I soaked the Stevens's kids" she tells nobody in particular, looking highly pleased with herself. I groan.

"We're rapidly approaching zero degrees Kelvin, and you SOAK Kay and Martin?"

"Well, they deserved it."

"Deserved it why?"

"Because they are stuck-up little prats that torture animals and throw snow at passers-by. And besides, they always pick on Jackie."

"Don't call me that" Jacques mumbles without looking up from his work.

"Lillian" I tell her patiently "YOU throw snow at passers-by."

"Not with big, icy lumps in it, I don't. And I don't use your or dad's wands to hex the snow into following people."

"That is still no reason to get them stuck with pneumonia."

"I didn't! They were just outside their house, and the only thing they really got from it was a bit of a shock and a reminder of that not everyone are impressed by them acting total arseholes." And then she ads, under her breath: "Which is a real pity."

Ten years old, and she already speaks, thinks and acts like Sirius. Oh dear...

"I didn't hear your mother wishing for an argument in this, Lillian Snape" Severus points out archly from the door to his study.

Lillian gives him a cheeky smile. "Well, I gave it to her anyway. I'm a generous little girl, you see, daddy dearest."

"Don't try my patience, young girl. I might put you in detention."

"You should try my patience for a change, you'll live longer that way. And I'm not your student YET, dad."

He quirks one eyebrow. "What has that got to do with anything? I'm you father, and if you do not apologise to the poor boys, I am personally going to bore you into oblivion."

There is a small, almost invisible, smile on his lips as he speaks, and naturally, Lillian immediately detects it. Laughingly, she throws her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss at his cheek. Severus sighs.

"Where did we go wrong, love?" He asks me.

Lillian suggests something that makes Jacques blush, and Julie gives a long-suffering sigh, sticking her fingers into her ears.

"And there went your chance of staying up late tonight. If you listen closely, you might hear it whooshing away. To your bed, young lady."

"But dad...!"

"But me no buts. Bed."

"But I'm hungry!"

"You've had dinner. I'll send up an apple. Bed. Now!"

She sticks out her tongue, stomping off with every possible show of displeasure. She is not the one to suffer in silence, my youngest girl.

Severus smiles slightly, watching her go, and I know that he feels the same as I do. I look at my children, and I see perfection. Every day I marvel at that these wonderful creatures come from me. Most parents feel that way. I am not saying that I think my children faultless, far from it. But all their flaws and impossibilities make them all the more perfect to me, only deepens my love and care for them.

I turn to watch Jacques, yawning from fatigue already but unwilling to give up his studies. Resting his head in his hands, blinking to keep his vision clear, he reads on with his face set in determined lines. And the vacation's only just started. Tssk. Too much time spent with Remus by half.

"What a load of dingo's kidneys!" Julie hisses, staring at an offending passage in her book.

"What is it, love?" I wonder, smiling at her obvious indignation.

"Listen to this: 'During the first year after Voldemort's second rise to power, this particular Dark Lord managed to stealthily keep himself hidden from the Ministry of Magic.' Bollocks! Fudge HAD the information right before him, but he choose to ignore it. Bloody Chamberlain politics, I say."

"Yes love" I fight a laugh, knowing that she would never forgive me for it. But she looks so agitated, it's quite adorable.

"Chamberlain?" Severus inquires with an amused smile.

"Muggle Premier Minister during the beginning of the second World War. Many deem his actions cowardly, as he was very indulgent towards Hitler."

Julie opens her mouth, then closes it again, as if deeming a political discussion with her parents fruitless. Severus mumbles something about "And I though Wizard History was confused..." and I smirk at him.

And there is nothing but the feeling of simple, uncomplicated happiness, of finally have found the right way. Of peace. As much as that goes, with two teenagers and one wild-spirited ten-and-a-half-year-old in the house. But all these little scuffles are... just a part of it all; of this overwhelming safety and irresistible surge of... love.

It is over. A much as it shaped me and built who I am, this whole war, this time of losses and victories, is over. Julie and Jacques were born children of a new age, an era of peace. And though I will always remember them: Julie, Emily, James, Lily, Sirius and Peter, their memories sleep calmly and smilingly inside me now. They haunt me no longer.

I buried Peter beside James and Lily and Sirius. And Remus and I managed to rake up enough money to magically engrave the nicknames in the tombstones. I managed to get Emily moved there as well. It felt right.

And maybe I sometimes wake up from screaming nightmares about my father, but there is always someone there to hold me and make me feel safe. After my lonely years, this is a relief beyond anything else. To have someone by my side. Always.

After all my worldly fighting as well as inner struggles, I am finally left to love and care and be deliriously happy, without immediate fear of losing it all, without reserve or emotional agony.

I am home.

* * *

Later that night, when I am to make sure that Lillian has put out the light, I halt my step in surprise as I approach her door. Through it, I can hear her mumbling, as if speaking to someone. Her voice goes quiet at regular intervals, as if she is listening to something, but I cannot hear a word. My brow furrowing, I open the door.

Lillian's head spins around in shock, and her expression is vaguely guilty.

"Who are you talking to, dear?"

For a short second, I see a strange, undetectable expression fleeting across her features. Then she grins. "My invisible friend, mother."

When she was younger, she used to claim that she indeed had an invisible friend following her around, but she stopped when she realised that nobody believed in her. People simply ignored her, and if there is something she detests, it is being ignored. So she gave her game up, and went over to making sure that people would never DARE ignore her presence ever again. And succeeded.

I smile fondly at her. "Whatever you say, love. Now sleep."

And she nods, leaning back against her pillow and closing her eyes. The sleeping beauty. Or maybe not. Lillian is really not the fairytale-princess type.

As I close the door, I can hear her giggle sleepily, as if sharing a joke with the nigh around her.

- FIN -

* * *

Well, that's all for this fic, folks. The first chapter of thefollow-up on this follow-up will soon be published... I think.

/Alex


End file.
